Reduced to Memories and Pictures

My sister sent me this newspaper picture from 2006. It makes me smile. My Daddy helped build the huge brick signs at Murray State. We had so many people last week tell us how great my Daddy was at laying brick and how hard of a worker he was. This, we already knew. He was great at his craft. I know that he would fuss sometimes about laying blocks, because it was so hard of a job. He would also complain a bit if he had to lay those irregular stones/bricks, which were beautiful, but kind of a pain to do. He didn't like doing the smooshed mortar, because he felt like it wasn't "finished" although he did whatever was asked of him. He went to bed around 8:00 when he was working, because he was out the door by 6:00am. I remember hearing him take a shower in the mornings before I was even thinking of getting up. I appreciate that more now than I did then, I think. Teenagers don't realize how parents get tired too.

My Daddy was told in April/May 2008 that if he didn't have a major back surgery, he would be in a wheelchair or worse. He had surgery the week we moved to Owensboro where they fused 5 disks together and while he did well, he never felt good again,, and was unable to work. He was in chronic pain, although somewhat managed. All these back problems were caused by him providing for his family all those years. I took for granted all of this while I was growing up. I suppose all kids do. Daddy was feeling so much better the last couple of weeks of his life due to a new pain management plan and doctor. Again, the long term results were cut short, but I am thankful that he was feeling good for a short while.

I cooked a batch of okra today for lunch and had a sliced cucumber on the side. This was picked by my Daddy before he passed. I don't know if it was the last day he was alive or sometime that week, but I teared up while cooking that food. It is the last food I'll ever eat that my Daddy planted, hoed, and picked. Jamie said his garden should have been featured in a magazine with its perfect straight rows, the dirt all turned over beautifully, and lack of weeds. He was the gardener expert and I was going to pick his brain next year, because Jamie and I are thinking of doing a small garden. I can always read a book, ask someone else, or figure it out on my own, but it won't be the same. He would have enjoyed teaching me how to do this. I grew up with a garden, picked veggies, and shelled peas, but I always just took for granted the work that went into it before we were sitting down to dinner. My Daddy made tomato juice the day before he died. He was having a good day and week. That makes me happy and confused about all this at the same time, I think.

We are now reduced to memories and pictures of the past. I can still hear my Daddy's voice in my head and his laugh. I wonder how long it'll be before it fades. Will it fade? I don't want it to. Will my kids remember? I don't know and that bothers me. Will I always be waiting for him to walk in the back door of the house when I visit? It is so strange to see your Daddy who provided for you, played games with you, gave you advice as an adult stricken by death too soon. He died so peacefully that I know eternity caught him by surprise as much as it did us. What was he doing those last few hours/minutes? Will I ever get the images of his lifeless body sitting in his favorite chair and the morticians carrying him off 3 hours later out of my head? When I turn 66, will I be afraid to sleep? Will I ever get over the fact that some people I love didn't reach out to us during the the most painful shocking moments of our lives? Did these people that dismissed the first 2 days of his death, realize how much a phone call or acknowledgement would mean? I don't know the answer to any of these questions. The biggest question of all is "Why?" God only knows.

Every relationship has ups and downs in life and ours was no different. I realized on 9-10-11 at 3:20 in the morning that nothing else mattered in the world though. I have had thoughts of some of the funniest, special, and unique memories that made my earthly Father my "Daddy" It is funny how God brings these things to the surface and anything negative is buried and gone. God is so very good!

I've also seen how strong my mother is. My Grandmother lost her husband in much the same manner, so I know that Mama had a wonderful example of how to "live" after your soul mate is gone. My Mother, while going through this horrific loss, has been a comfort to her family too, because she "gets it" having been in these shoes. My mother came to a soccer game last Saturday, went to work on Tuesday (she only works 2 days, but this was a major step), and while she worries about the unknown she reminds us all "I'm going to be all right...I'm strong". This I know! While the almost 500 people that loved us last week, go on with their lives, we are suddenly left alone and in the dark about where to go with our grief. Our hearts are still aching even if we smile on the outside. I can enjoy my children and laugh in life with a missing piece of my heart that is 6 feet under in Story's Chapel Cemetery. How is it possible to laugh and be sad at the same time and when will this begin to sink in and feel normal again. I almost have to chant to myself, "your Daddy is dead" or I hardly even believe it myself.

My life with Daddy has been reduced to memories and pictures, but that's not all! I look at my Mama, sister, nieces, and children and know that his memory will go on and we will make it. Holidays will be hard, especially the first year, but we will trudge ahead and make "life" and more memories. One thing is for sure, I'm not sweating the small stuff at the moment and I am not taking our remaining parents, grandparents, and family for granted!