(Written 2008)
My story began August 16, 1962, in Liberty, Texas. I was the product of a special union between a 21-year-old female and her husband who was 14 years her senior. My dad often spoke of my birth, his face lit up with pride at just the mention of that day.
He once told me that since I was the only baby born in the hospital that week, he would sneak in after hours and the nurse would let him hold me in the nursery. He told me that he had waited 36 years for this moment, and I was worth the wait.
Who knows? Maybe that was the beginning of the special bond my dad and I shared. I have wonderful memories of every stage of my life.
I spent my preschool years riding my tricycle on the dirt road in front of the house. I can remember at the age of 3 years old my dad pushing me from behind on my tricycle.
Perhaps he had worked a long day at his Texaco service station or he had been on the combine in the soybean fields with Jr. Ray since sunrise, yet he always found time for me. He was always available to tell me and show me how much he loved me.
Now don’t get me wrong; he took time for discipline just as he did for the tender moments.
My cousin came over one Saturday morning. I never watched many
cartoons: I preferred to be digging in the dirt or riding the tractor beside Daddy. We were playing, and Daddy asked if we wanted to ride to town. It was about a mile, so we rode in the back of the truck. As a child, there was nothing like riding in the back of that old green 1963 Chevrolet.
When we returned home, He showed me something he had in his pocket. It was a small clear plastic bag containing 3 fishhooks. He told me he had “found” them in the store and he gave me one to keep my mouth shut. I’m not sure if it was my conscious or fear. I think I was afraid the police from “Dragnet” were going to get us or, even worse my daddy would find out. We knew stealing was wrong, out of fear we buried them under our big old sycamore tree on the north side of the house.
I was busted. Daddy saw me, and he dug till he found the hooks. We confessed. The next thing I knew we were in the back of that old truck in 100-degree weather taking the longest one-mile ride of my life. We were 6 years old, and we were told to go up and Tell the owner of the store, Thomas Kindle, what we had done. Thomas had actually been my uncle by marriage years earlier. I loved him and wasn’t afraid of him but even at that age I knew I would be disappointing him. He was such a wonderful man and found
humor is everything. Many years afterwards he would speak of this incident and just laugh. I learned a lot that day. I would be wealthy today if I had a dollar for every time Daddy told me, “Right is right and wrong is wrong”.
I had a childhood friend named Denee’, her father and mine were best friends and we were inseparable. We had a great deal in common, and being raised as an only child was one of them. I remember in the 1st grade my daddy came and checked me out of school. He said that Dennis, my friend’s father had passed away and she needed me.
That was the earliest memory of the words cancer and death. I may not have known the entire concept of the words, but over the weeks, the months, and years I observed what it did to my friend’s world and eventually mine.
Few years later during my 5th grade year, my dad developed a growth in his mouth. I was young, but I could tell something was not right. There was tension in our home for the first time in my life. Daddy was in bed, and I walked down the hall and sat beside him. I innocently asked what was wrong. He said he had cancer. My mind flashed back to Denee’, and losing her father to cancer. My daddy and I were both crying, and I could sense his fear and feel his pain. I was frightened. I couldn’t see my mom and me without
Daddy. He was not only my hero, but my best friend.
Over the years he went to UTMB in Galveston and received treatments. Then one day it seemed that all the cancer was gone. Life was beautiful.
I had my first child, Ktisha DeAnn in 1980 then my son Gerald Lynn in 1981. We lived next door to my parents throughout my children’s childhood. Many times I looked out the window and saw him pushing my daughter down that same dirt road he had pushed me or putting my son in my old spot sitting beside him on the tractor. It often brought a tear to my eye but always a smile to my heart.
In 1997 my dad started having difficulty swallowing. Being a nurse, I suspected an obstruction. I was correct; it was a tumor obstructing the esophagus. The biopsy was conclusive. It was cancer and inoperable. His prognosis was poor and he was given one month. We had a wonderful three months together. I refused to have him in the hospital, so I kept him at home. Toward the end of the three months I could tell he was holding on to life for us, as I have seen in so many cases.
Late one night I sat beside him and held his hand. I told him he gave me the best 36 years of my life. I told him he was my hero and always would be. I did the hardest thing I’d ever done in my life. I gave him permission to leave us. I told him that I knew he was tired and I knew he would be going to a much better place. I kissed his hand and promised I would always take care of Momma and we would all be ok. He was weak and unable to speak, but with all his strength he tugged at my hand and kissed it.
The next morning my mom woke me. When I saw her face, I immediately knew Daddy was gone. After Kenneth Enloe J.P. pronounced his death and left, I removed all the tubing, bathed him, dressed him, combed his beautiful silver hair and then let my mom and children have their moment. it looked as if Daddy was peacefully sleeping.
Afterwards I spent a few moments alone and felt a peace come over me. My dad was not in that body. His spirit was where he had strived for all these years, with God. A part of Daddy still remains. He still lives within his family; I am who I am because of him. After 11-years I still have my bad days but then I look down that dirt road or glance at that old tractor sitting in the field and think to myself, “Life ain’t always beautiful but it’s a beautiful ride”