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|Date:||2/9/2004 10:09:39 AM|
|Message:||I can't recall whether I've posted this before... so I'm going to post it again! *grin* It's another piece about my dad -- things I remember about him -- that I wrote in my creative writing class....
I remember every day, every hour, every minute. I can see him in myself. I hear his music when I write my own. My father lives in me. I remember when he spoke my name from the stage of the Grand Ol’ Opry. I was only three then, overwhelmed and confused by the number of people there to listen to my dad. Of course he was a hero to me, but I couldn’t understand, then, their reasoning for loving him so much. I remember going to the airport to pick him up when he was through touring for the year. I can still see him walking towards me… he always carried himself in a way that even a stranger would stop to watch him pass by… such confidence intertwined with such humility. His pace always quickened when he saw me – five years of blond curls and bruises. He would laugh at the sight of it… childish ringlets, and another injury. I always had one to show off to him, even though it made him worry. He was so protective of my life that he seldom stopped to think about his own. I remember how he used to let me crawl into bed with he and my mom. They didn’t mind if I was there, yet every night I would sneak through their door after I thought they were asleep. I would start on the floor at the foot of their bed, muster up my courage, and silently inch my way onto the covers. I always thought I was being so careful not to wake them up, but despite my efforts, every night, as I reached the half way mark between the edge of the bed and my pillow, my dad would assist me the rest of the way, chuckling. My parents told me years later that they looked forward to our rendezvous. It made them laugh to see my ringlets peek over the foot of the bed.
I remember watching my dad grow old as I grew up. I can still hear him beg, earnestly, from his bedroom for a turkey sandwich or a cup of coffee. I can still see the pride in his eyes the night I sang him my first song. There was not one time our eyes met that he didn’t tell me how much he loved me. He was the same way with my mom. The two could be mid-argument, and he would break in with “I looooove you Susi”. The southern accent always softened her rage. I remember the way he adored her. I remember the way he always appreciated her independence and her fire. My dad’s closest friend told me the night he passed away that I was my daddy’s little girl because I was just like the woman he cherished. I remember that night…the night we finally lost him. I remember the urgent feeling I had that I needed to be home, despite that I was at the biggest rodeo of the season, and I had hundreds of dollars invested in the event. I loaded my horses into the trailer at eight-thirty to trek the four hours north towards home. When I reached the ranch, and put the horses away for the night, I went to my parent’s bedroom, where they were laughing at each other, telling stories from their past, remembering… I joined in for an hour, laughing harder than I had in months, and then I said goodnight to my dad one last time. We lost him that night...but part of me says that he is still with me. I don’t hear him call from his bedroom anymore… our home in Oregon lacks a certain East Texas accent that was once present… but we still remember. Every day, we remember. I listen to his music, and I remember. I look through pictures of our family, and I remember. I pick up a guitar, and I remember.
I remember every day, every hour, every minute.
I will always remember.
| I Remember... by Laura Shayne at 2/9/2004 10:09:39 AM|
| Re: I Remember... by Margaret Miller at 2/9/2004 11:20:24 AM|
| Re: I Remember... by jimM at 2/9/2004 11:59:55 AM|
| Re: I Remember... by ChrisF at 2/9/2004 1:03:27 PM|
| Re: I Remember... by Craig at 2/9/2004 2:43:54 PM|
| Re: I Remember... by Judy W at 2/9/2004 2:15:37 PM|
| Re: I Remember... by (RandyD) at 2/9/2004 3:08:51 PM|
| Re: I Remember... by Brian at 2/9/2004 3:49:01 PM|
| Re: I Remember... by Mamie at 2/10/2004 12:00:47 AM|
| Re: I Remember... by Claude Wooley at 2/15/2004 3:18:31 PM|