Dad

When I think of my Dad, I think of the farm. The smell of his chew with a hint of whiskey, the sweet scent of hay, the farm markets, the shiny snaps on his Western shirts, an old twangy Hank Williams song. I have always seen a familiar innocence in his eyes. Bill had his eyes. When I miss Bill the most, I'd look into dads eyes and remember he's not that far away. My dad has always been loving, hardworking, and best described as salt of the earth. He always felt like home to me. He loved to have a good time and was often the life of any party. If you weren't sure where the party was, you could just listen, and you'd hear him hooping and hollering. I will remember the way he'd only put mustard on his corndogs. The way he loved to dance in the kitchen, how he'd slick back his hair. The subtle way he would rub my back with his finger tips. I will always cherish those dirt road drives down by the river counting deer. The times we went deer hunting, the only thing we'd get was a hangover, but we had so much fun. He was the best auctioneer and was right at home on stage with a microphone in his hand at the sale barn. My whole childhood, his loud babbling auctioneer voice, was what got my ass up and out of bed in the morning. To this day, I am not a morning person. Thanks, dad! He had a strong hate for funnel cakes. When we were kids, he took us to the Burwell rodeo, and of course me and Bill each wanted our own funnel cake, and he got 1 for himself as well. Long story short, he ate 3 and was sick the whole way home. To this day, I still tease him about it. When I think of him, I think of June. I believe it was his happiest time of the year. As well as his birthday month. His garden was fully established and growing, the weather beautiful enough to sit outside under the shade trees and watch his sprinklers. He'd usually be cussing out the squirrels, sipping on a cold beer with Kathy by his side. He was such a giver, especially when it came to his garden. I will never forget the day he had his hospice nurse out in his garden picking sweetcorn. Roxy, thank you for everything you have done for him and Kathy. He loved you, and as far as I'm concerned, you have become family. In the words of Cissy, you can bring the veggie tray for Thanksgiving this year. Kathy, thank you for loving my dad unconditionally and taking care of him the way that you did. You have definitely stuck to your vows, and I am eternally grateful that my dad found you. I thank God for you and your love every day. A couple of weeks ago, Dad looked at me and said "Babydoll I ain't got much time left." I said, I know, dad. With tears streaming down my cheeks, I told him that I loved him with all my heart. He shook his head and said I love you too." I told him whenever he needed to go, I'd understand. I told him that I would always take care of Kathy. I asked him to find Billy and give him a big hug and tell him that I love him with all my heart. He said, "I promise I will." He kissed me on the cheek. That moment was sacred, a gift many are denied, but I got the wonderful privilege to say the things I needed to, for that I am grateful. You didn't quite make it to your birthday this year, dad. But you get to celebrate it tomorrow with Billy, in heaven pain-free. You saw me take my first breath and I saw you take your last. Life is so precious and fragile. I'm not sure how to go on without him, but I do know that he is at peace with my brother. I also know that he loved me so much. He'd tell me every chance he got. So, dad, your chores here on earth are finished. Thank you for loving me unconditionally my whole life. 

  - your Babydoll.