Sticks and stones
Breaking truth or lies
Sound and fury
I remember the first Father’s Day after Daddy died. “It was the worst of times,it was the best of times.”
Recalling all our days in the sun and rain, learning how to drive (Daddy put me in the truck and said to drive to the church and back). I did as he said and at 14 I was driving our truck. I was a sickly child and it seemed he took up more time with me. As time went by he seemed to have less time to take with just me but I knew he loved me.
When we found out my son was very ill, that same father came to help him be as well as any other child, taught him he was not different, and that he could do other things even though he could not play sports. In a sports family this meant a lot because he could not play with his cousins. He was the outlier. Daddy made sure he was never left out. He learned to shoot and fish. He and Daddy watched baseball for hours and both knew the stats exactly for their teams.
They played cards….Daddy taught him poker lol.
Daddy, every Sunday would go and get the Sunday paper for everyone…go in, sit a spell and then go to the next house. It seemed everyone loved my Daddy.
Yes, he was an alcoholic. Yes, Mother grumbled at him but they had the prettiest yard in the community working together to make our little frame house look like a fairy castle.
He would sit in the yellow rocker for hours in the evening talking about everything and nothing but you knew you were home when you heard his gravely voice telling his stories.
He loved to sit by the fire in winter, by the window in Mothers bedroom. He said as he neared the end, “I will miss the fire.”
Nothing was the same after Daddy died. Mother couldn’t keep the place up by herself. My brother did all he could but nothing looked like Daddy’s careful tending of the land around the house and barn.
Through the years I have watched the house deteriorating and the dreams disappear. I stand and cry then as I did the day he died. Nothing stays the same, nor would we want it too. If I could choose one day in my life to relive I would choose a crisp fall day to sit on the back steps and watch Daddy chop wood…just an ordinary day at home.
Trying out the voice function.
Today I was going to have a pity party. And then I remembered, I will walk again, many will not. So Why am I going to have a pity party. I failed to remember that I have a great life.even if it is just for today. So many people are much sicker than I am. I am thankful for my health, I am thankful for my friends, I am thankful for my family, I am thankful for my place in the universe.
Enough for now
Leaving my old world on April 11, I woke up somewhere along the way during the next 9 days. I could not remember much. I knew my daughter; recognized a hospital; not where.
My body seemed strange and there were other appendages I could not place as mine. Sleeping seemed the answer.
Then I was being slushed all over with water even though I truly had little feeling or thoughts. A P.T. Came and said I was to walk producing a belt, which he put around me and a 4 wheel push cart. I think we walked down the hall, gown flapping in the breeze. He brought me back and set me in a chair.
My daughter stated that I talked but no one could understand me. I could not read or write. I did know my name. It cane out all crooked.
I stayed there 9 days. I will have to tell the story in jumbled parts. That is how I remember it.
My old world was gone. I had been given a new world and a new opportunity to live this new short life each minute, with more compassion and gratitude.
Those old memories were mostly gone as well. Perhaps, I thought they would come back. I seemed happy either way.
I am trying to learn the microphone way. It is too difficult to type.
May the Universe keep you all safe.
Great Valentine post.
I posted this story four years ago. It has remained one of my favourite Valentine posts. My apologies to the few followers who have already seen it.
I’m married to a guy (the Captain) who regularly forgets birthdays and anniversaries. After so many years, I don’t bother to make a big deal of it anymore. If it matters to me a lot, I’ll just announce the date ahead of time so we can plan something nice. I’ve learned not to expect surprises for these special days.
A few years ago we were in the middle of a flooring renovation. The carpet was pulled up revealing a shocking amount of sand and grit on the plywood underneath. The new hardwood went on clean and shiny. The job was nearly finished; only the stairs left to do. I went into town to run some errands—among them, bringing back a few chocolates for a…
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