.002. my daddy

So, today is one of those days that didn't have much significance until three years ago. June 8, 2007, my life changed forever. I had always been the "normal" kid with both my parents, still married, and my older brother that I got along with, for the most part. But, on that day, in early June, my world was turned upside down. I sat down here to write this blog with the intentions of recounting those early morning hours that will never be forgotten, but I don't seem to be able to do that. On June 8, 2007, my daddy passed away. The events that happened that lead up to this or the events that took place after do not change this fact. The fact that I wish I could change. By no means would I call my relationship with my daddy perfect, but we did have a relationship. My mom says that we argued so much because we're so much alike. We both had a need to be right all the time, we had strong opinions, and we but heads quite a bit. However, I would give anything to have one more argument with my daddy. In fact, the evening before, we were doing our usual, arguing. I wanted to play cards, a typical evening summer activity in our household. But, for some reason, daddy just didn't feel like playing that night. Should we have suspected something from this? I don't know. There are so many things, looking back, that perhaps I should have seen as being suspicious, foretelling what lies ahead.

On June 5th, my parents would have celebrated their 35th wedding anniversary.  I wish I could have surprised them with a romantic meal, like I did three years ago.

We took my daddy's boat out on the lake Memorial Day weekend, I already told y'all about this. I couldn't help but think that daddy was with us. I'm not one of those people that feel the need to visit the cemetery often. I don't feel like my daddy is there. My daddy is with me all the time. Every time I argue with my mom or my brother, I feel myself acting like my daddy would have. My daddy is with me when I need him most. Lately, I have noticed my brother picking up little habits that were characteristic of my daddy. His grilling technique is coming into its own, but while he stands at the grill, he'll wipe his hand on the back of his khaki pants, just like daddy. Or while we're playing cards on the back deck on summer nights, he'll wiggle his toes in concentration. Or when he is relaxing, he'll put his hands behind his neck and his feet up in front of him. Or when we're standing outside, he'll find something to prop his foot on so that he can lean on his knee. All of these things are my daddy. My daddy will be with me forever.


Three years have gone by, but I will never forget my daddy.

This is my summer life.