One Year Without Daddy

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Hey daddy...

The past year without you has really flown by,
and, 
hell, 
who are we all trying to fool - 
those of us that have lost something that cannot be replaced - 
it has not been an easy year, much less an easy 'whatever' -
and there has been so much loss this year, daddy,
and a lot of people out there, OUR PEOPLE, are suffering
and I start to miss you in times like these because you had a different way of seeing things
and I hear about all the other people that have lost their parents
and, if they were good ones, then I know there just has to be some out of this world sights over there on the other side of the veil,
a big ole party of ghosts,
huh, daddy,
and they all tell me that a quick and easy passing is far better than a death that is drawn out and I try to accept that even though if I would have known that at the time then I would have talked to you more than I did and just listen to your voice and,
well,

it's all irrelevant now, huh?

Last Thanksgiving and Christmas was extremely hard without you, daddy.
I expected nothing less.
I expected nothing more.
A new normal - a human made joke for all of us to have to convince ourselves to believe. 
More mist for us to have to see through and the windshield wiper blades are already so worn,

then came your birthday, daddy,
and then everyone else's birthday, 
and nobody can really prepare you for the void that exists when you lose one of the best parents around.

You miss their voice.
You miss their calls. 
You miss just knowing that they are there if you want to take a little extra time to stop by and visit,
and I would, daddy,
in a heartbeat's heartbeat,
and I swear to the highest of the religious hierarchies that I would, 
I would, I would, I would,
I would stop by and just look at you and stare at you until you caught me staring at you and then you would smile and say, 'what', while grinning.

I would take my pointer finger and touch you just to know that you were there, here on Earth, and to know you were real and to know that I was real...

but I can no longer do that, daddy,
and it's okay, 
but not really,
and you had so many years left in you,
so many adventures and legends to create,
and I've read so many commentaries that says your father will be the only man in your life that will want to see you succeed far greater than they ever did, 
and, daddy, I'm trying, 
and I know you are one of the only ones that truly knows what's going on with me right now, 
and, well,
I could just really use you right now because I need those words of advice 
and,
even if we just simply sat together in a comfortable silence like we did some of the time,
well, most of the time,
and I just love you, daddy,
and I have found out that, as a writer and, more primarily, a son, I sure do hate talking about you in the past tense. 

It is what life is right now and will never change, so, you know. 
We’re all living in the past tense anyway. 
Why stop now?

But I still talk about you all the time, daddy,
and I only talk about you to those that truly matter,
those that are truly listening,

those that are REALLY living.

And everybody keeps saying that you are in a better place
and that you are at peace
and that you have a new body
and that you are with your maker
and that you're no longer suffering...

...but where does that leave us without you, daddy?

A year ago, we lost you, daddy...

I lost you, daddy...

and I can still remember the sound your last two breaths made when they left your body,
me and momma by your beside,
the rest of the family preparing the cabin and waiting for hospice to bring you there,
but you were already gone, weren't you, daddy,
when them angels you believed in for so many years came down and took you to the place that so many of us want to go to but so few of us will ever enter, 
considering the observations I see of the current state of the world,
considering I do not even know if I'm worthy enough half of the time to enter the gates myself,

but,

If God is real, daddy,
then you've seen His face, 
finally,
after all those years of faithful service,
and you've received your judgments,
your forgiveness,
your crown and jewels that were already long overdue,
and you've finally entered eternal peace,
something we know absolutely nothing about and never will until that fateful day - if we are truly ready, like READY ready - to leave this failed planet and its failed simulation and enter an entirely different dimension - finally!

and I can only imagine the sight, daddy,

and you were so brave before you left,
and tired,
and we are upset and mad and heartbroken and angry that you left
and we miss you more with every passing day
and, yes, holidays are different and tough right now,
and, yes, birthdays are different and tough right now,
and yes, everything is different and tough right now, 
and other people are leaving this Earth left and right, daddy, just like you did, 
good people,
honest people,
loved people,
and even though no one is sure what is on the other side and the rules that exist there and how everyone thinks that you will not know people in heaven like you knew them back on Earth, I hope you still think back on me, daddy,

your son,

and I hope you still smile 
and, yes, I can still tell when you are around, daddy, even though it is not the way I prefer to feel your presence but still better than nothing,
and I know it will have to do for now, well - forever, since things are how they are...

but it's okay, right, daddy,
because we will be reunited again one day in the most glorious light that anybody has ever seen and I hope time stands still and I hope you hug me and chuckle and I can finally hear what I've needed to hear this entire year you've been gone,

"I've missed you too, son..."

I tell stories about you, daddy, to one of my sons for now,
and, 
deep down inside, 
I know he is too young to ever remember you except through pictures and videos, kind of like it was with me and your daddy and I barely had a handful of pictures and no videos and just the stories you left with me,
but I do appreciate the fact that my eldest got to experience you like a grandson should (well - kind of),
like a real life, authentic Southern grandaddy and grandson relationship,
and I look at the old pictures from time to time
and I watch the old videos
and I experience this feeling
and I relate and connect to those that have felt this pain
and I tell them that I am sorry that they have to hurt like this and, in turn, they end up consoling me,
and it's almost like I'm still playing hide and seek with you, daddy,
when I need to realize that it is a waste of time but it's kind of like one of the only things I have to hold onto right now since the greatest superhero that ever existed had to finally hang up his overalls and take a little break...

and I talk to you, daddy,
and you answer back, sometimes, but not with a voice, unless I'm dreaming or have my consciousness really dialed in, 
and I catch myself - my resting body in the bed - knowing that I'm in the dream so I try to stay there and convene with you before I have to return to my daddy'less world...

and,
sometimes,
you never answer back and that's okay because I know you have a lot of catching up to do with a lot of people up there,
and I'm writing down the times when the analog clock has stopped here on Earth with me, daddy, and I'll decipher it as such,
and I think conversations up - dialogue for the ages - that I'm having with you while I'm working and driving on my commute ride home
and I vocally verbalize my responses to you out loud
and I've quit caring about who hears me
and I've quit caring about who really understands
and I've really started to quit caring about caring,
and when I receive nothing audible from you in return and I'm almost at the point of giving up on what could be achieved if we could just connect,

I see it,

the objects - answers,

and when it all starts piecing together and making sense, daddy,
I hear the sounds of your last two breaths and the way your body looked after your soul evacuated it and I rubbed your forehead and I opened your eyelids and looked into your blue eyes one last time, 
and I realize time is short for all of us on this Earth,
and, with how things are evolving, for some of us,
de-evolving for others,
this is a very comforting realization...

irony - my soulmate...

Daddy,
my new invisible best friend,
a dad that nobody's daddy will ever compare to just because of the way you were,
I'm still carrying on your work traditions for now and working chair side with doctors like you used to, daddy,
and I'm adding my own flair,
and all of it is actually working really well even though I still think about quitting every other day,
and I'm still not putting up with any unnecessary noise or chaos or BS like you would not have want me to,
and there have been a couple of days when I've had to talk myself into the chair so I can complete my job for the doctors and patients,
and there have been a couple of days when I've shed a tear while my back has been turned to the door when I think about you or if a certain song comes on the radio,
but I have not faltered, daddy,
and I have not given up quite yet
and I continue to put finesse over fastness
and I still use your spatula
and your knife
and sister's Bard Parker and wax carver,
and the days I feel like putting all of it behind me for good, I feel the calm... 

the invisible hand...

and my bluetooth speaker will get interference until the music starts playing again,

everything around me starts to quiet down,

I take a breath,

I wipe my face,

I grin,

I jokingly shake my head,

I think up of a cuss word instead of speaking it because I feel less like a sinner if I do that,

then I carry on,

and I just want to thank you, daddy,
for still taking time to cater to me even though I know it takes away time from you, Jesus, Moses, and your newly reunited parents and siblings.
You all have been separated for so long for me to be selfish now,

but,

the epiphany for me is that no man will ever compare to you, daddy,
regardless if they are this or that,
if they have this meaningless title or that one,
and I'm glad you were my father because you never promised what you couldn't deliver and you didn't mind separating yourself from drama because you'd rather be watching black and white westerns than hearing any of the noise this world has to offer -

you using a flip phone since its inception and never owning a smartphone that could connect to the internet -

you never being able to see John Wick 4 and knowing how it ends after all the conversations we had about the first three -

me always having the memory of us going to see the new Star Wars' together at the theater and enjoying the experience but immediately dissecting it and comparing them to the original 4, 5, and 6 -
and I go back and watch these things to get that feeling I had when we watched them together and, when I think the magic has finally disappeared forever - it happens -
tears fill my eyes,
I chase them away,
happiness turns to sadness turns to pain turns to serenity,
and I look forward to the day I get to share parts of you with my younger and eldest at the same time - no woman on the face of this planet being able to interfere with what my God has planned for the future,
me carrying the legend of the greatest man I've ever known.

That legend is you, daddy.

Like they said in The Sandlot,
"heroes get remembered.... but legends never die...."

How I wish that were really true, daddy. 

I just want to say that I miss being your little boy, daddy...

I miss riding around the yard on my worn out Huffy bicycle and seeing you sitting on the front porch rockers, smoking a cigarette, letting the world turn on a piece of land you worked so hard in making a miniature paradise.

I miss working with you on a daily basis, no matter how much we used to get on one another's nerves, and I'd do anything to go back to those days for a moment or two, regardless of how tough we thought they were back then, and just relish the memory of a moment revisited of when we were together. I couldn't wait for things to change back then; now, I find myself wishing for some things to go back to the way they were.
How foolish all of us are in the moment sometimes, huh, daddy?

I miss the occasional drift of your cigarette smoke to let me know where you were at, no matter how hard of a time I gave you when you smoked around my boys because I wanted to protect their little lungs from what I saw it destroy in both you and me until I finally decided to break that generational curse ten years ago.

I miss every breakfast our little tribe had together and every breakfast we are going to have to miss out on, not to mention all the good food we've eaten since you passed - and me remembering how pitiful your last meal was as you lay in that hospital bed, me and momma feeding you - you grabbing at something invisible in the air - and I only hope, then again I already know, your eternal menu far outweighs anything our eyes have ever seen. Go get that Paradise Pork Shoulder, big guy. Get Saint Peter to fire that smoker up.

I miss doing a little extra hard work around the house for you, without you telling me to do it, and you finally taking time at the end of the day to walk up, put your hand on my shoulder, and tell me how awesome it looks and how much that meant to you, even if it was not up to the standard you had already preset in your mind.

I would do anything to go on a fishing trip with you just one more time, daddy, and, even if we did not catch a single minnow, the biggest trophy of the day was that we had one more moment to just sit in the empty quiet together and let the world turn on its own without us having to move with it.

I miss watching you attempt to vacuum like a woman and actually pulling it off better than some I have observed.

I miss watching you prop yourself up against a pitchfork while you burn off a big pile of limbs or leaves.

I miss riding around on the golf cart with you.

I miss hearing you fart outside, and when I look at you to call you out on it, you blame it on a frog. 

I miss listening to you talk about all your motorcycle and scuba diving adventures. For some reason, you and all your friends loved being underwater and on two wheels, and, now, I find myself wishing I would have taken a little more time to understand why you liked exploring the underwater world so much. 

I miss walking into the living room at the house and seeing you in your chair, napping, snoring in the subconscious abyss, oblivious to my presence, and the sound you made as you sawed that wood and tried to blow down the walls of the house.

I miss your voice and your advice, you being the most level headed out of all of our family members, yet stern when the good hearted started to get trampled on and taken advantage of, even if that meant leaving the very church we grew up in.

I miss your imagination, dad, something that I have seen die out amongst the others - no other person's daddy ever having an imagination like you, even until death - because, there - that is where the true magic is, isn't it, daddy,

and I finally realize the power that exists there,

and,
I miss... well... everything...

I just never knew how much I would honestly miss the 'I miss'es' of losing someone like a good father...

...someone like you...

As long as someone misses me, too, like I miss you, daddy.

Right?

Hey daddy...

I know you can already see it and I'm sorry it's taken me this long to finally realize it for myself, but I have caught myself following around my youngest son on the golf cart like you used to follow around my oldest son as he drove his twelve volt trucks, back on the good ole farm days before - well, you know what I could type and how frustrating it is for my eldest to not have that last chance to see you before you passed...

...but guess what daddy, 

I know you visit him in his dreams, regardless, and I know that he knows you loved him, regardless...

...and guess what daddy, 

you were the best grandfather that any child could ever ask for, so I know when the memories of you pop up in his beautiful, dark haired brain and all the times you played cops and robbers and took him on golf cart adventures to look for the Straw Man and Headless Man and Wampus Cat, and when he honestly thinks back to all the good times and gets away from all the chaos and noise he lives around, you will come back to life for a minute or two, and I hope he finds solace there...

I hope.

And my youngest son, daddy, who will never know you like the other does, and the great grandchildren, daddy, who are growing up and will never know you like me, my sister, my niece, my nephew, and my cousins do - any of those who were in close proximity of you, daddy, - and just how you aged into the most laid back person I have ever seen...

and I know you were depressed that your dream lab didn't end like you thought it would...

and I know your triple bypass heart surgery and the Covid Flu did not help out when it came to you being the captain of that lab and that being the last nail in that particular coffin...  

and all I needed was ten more years, daddy.

That's all,

... a quick ten more years and then you could have left because there are so many great things on the way, I think, and each success you would have loved to seen with your eyes, and we could have gotten your body better, and there could have been more holidays and grill outs and fireworks, and...

there was just so much more to do, daddy...

and all the scuba diving you wanted me to do with you and, at the time, it just wasn't my thing, and now, I swear with every frayed fiber of my soul, I'd do anything to be eighteen, back in Bonaire, riding motorcycles around on the island with you, Alan, and Orlando, eating barbecued goat with the native islanders, watching the local Dutch woman as they decided to lay out topless, us three being treated like kings because you knew the right people there and being able to pull over anywhere on that special place and go snorkeling and see that particular realm that remains hidden...

the time, daddy...

the time.

Well, daddy,
I guess...

I was not expecting to have to deal with this as this point in time of my life but I am and I'm glad you were my daddy.

I'm glad God sent you to me, momma, and sister. 

I'm glad you were as strong for as long as you were.

I'm glad you outlived me and I know you feel the same way.

I'm glad you taught me how to make a living for myself and my family and how I am thriving now because I took that knowledge and skill and ran with it.

I'm glad you were a hard worker.

I'm glad you never ran around on momma.

I'm sorry you couldn't kick the cigarettes sooner, but I did that for you and for grandpa too.

I'm glad you taught me respect.

I'm glad you taught me how to be a REAL man. 

I'm glad you loved momma and took care of her as best as you knew how.

I'm glad you didn't drink heavily and every day, daddy.  

I'm glad you took me and sister fishing. 

I'm sorry that hunting was not entirely my thing.

Thank you for letting me drive the five speed two door Nissan with purple windshield wipers on the main road at fourteen years old.

I'm still kind of pissed that I had to work the tobacco fields at such a young age, but something tells me that it is paying off now. 

Thank you for taking it light on me when I got in trouble while mom and sis ran around like banshees from hell, as though they were perfect and never made a mistake or two.

That one time you caught me kissing that girl on the couch after you woke up from your nap, thank you for continuing to walk on by and wipe your eyes and act as though you saw nothing.

Thank you for taking up for me, even if I was wrong, and never calling me out in public, waiting until it was just me and you. 

Thank you for putting that full sized trampoline together that one year I asked Santa for one and our Christmas lows, most of the time, were in the 40s.

Thank you for picking me up from private school on the motorcycle those couple of times. Everyone thought it was badass. We were Sons of Anarchy before there was anarchy.

Thank you for sitting on the front porch of the log cabin and watching me play basketball, no matter how much I sucked at the sport. 

Thank you for putting up with me, and if I ever disappointed you as your son, I'm sorry and it wasn't intentional - per se - but more so flawed free will choices, as always.

Thank you for the roots, daddy, and for the inner will that resides in my body, for now, slowly waning, slowly dying, but still stronger than Thanos and Iron Man and Doctor Strange combined, and, boy, when I finally do get the chance to click my fingers together, God willing, the things that are going to change.

Dad, I'm sorry for trying out for and playing sports and wasting your time, much less my own, by making you watch me do those things when there was not going to be any beneficial long term results. I should have been hitting the books harder, and I realize that now, even though what you taught me has far outweighed any thing that any school or professor could ever teach me. 
...and I still play the Powerball from time to time, when it gets into the low three figure millions, just like me and you did back in the good ole days, and I vocalize all the things I would do if I did happen to win, knowing I never will because easy money never comes OUR way...

...and I just want you to know, dad, that you were my superhero,
and you still are, man, and always will be...

I love you, daddy.

I think I understand what needs to be done now...

if you were only here to see it -
you would be so proud of us.     

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Thank you for you continued support!

I hope you enjoy your Fall season.