A Year Later

Today marks the one-year anniversary of my dad's death. I'm sitting here shaking my head. Already a year has passed. 

In a conversation with a sibling, it was suggested the family lost three people a year ago. Dad to cancer, and two of our siblings to . . . I don't even know how to word it . . . bad behavior? misguided thinking? selfishness? disconnectedness? all of the above? Here we are now, a year later, and the silence has only deepened, at least between me and the two siblings. I won't speak for my other siblings who have been disappointed by these two.

At this point, I keep returning to the "it is what it is" catch-all for difficult situations, and I find other things, pleasant and happy things, to focus on.

Like the time Dad set the oven on fire (well, he didn't really do it; the turkey did it) while preparing our Thanksgiving feast. Lovely Beautiful Daughter was around 8 years old and walked into the kitchen, loudly exclaiming, "Papaw! The oven's on fire!" It very definitely was. In a flurry of hands, oven mitts, and grunts, Dad got that turkey out of the oven before it was burnt to a crisp.

I'm pretty sure this was the same year Dad set the field behind the house on fire. He was trying to clear the field for new growth the following spring, but the wind came up and the fire got out of control, especially the smoke, which was creating a wall of white across the highway a quarter mile away from the house. The fire department was called. When they arrived, Dad jumped in and helped with the hose and raking to get the fire under control. Afterwards, he was invited to join the small town's volunteer fire department.

So many wonderful, fun memories of my dad. 

Recently, a friend sent me a photo of my dad that had been taken during an awards ceremony at the university when he was teaching. I thought about all the hours I spent in his lab, doing homework while waiting for him to finish for the day and we could drive home together. I had to listen to his country music the entire ride home because the driver got to choose the radio station. I will say, though I'm not a country music fan, I do have an appreciation for Willie, Conway Twitty, and Ricky Skaggs.

The last voicemail I had from dad was the song from his snowman. Like this one:

I am so thankful for my dad. So kind. So gentle. And he always knew how to make a person laugh.