Where do I start? I get home from work and notice Mom has all the dry ingredients to make a choclate cake out. I go to get ice and notice she has bought chicken breasts and drumsticks. Her mixing bowls are out. She told me she loved me more than usual today. I look aroud in my room and notice that I have only one picture of him in my room. Funny, witty, charming and a hard worker. Jan 9th would have been his 70th birthday. Who was this man I called Pop? He was a great mechanic. You could drive up in the driveway and he would tell you instantly by listening to your motor what was wrong with your it. Maybe an oil change, brakes, new belts. He had the biggest heart for his grandchildren. He loved children to make them laugh and see them smile. I never forget the little ones who tugged at my skirt to ask me about my Dad at his funeral. They had tons of questions for me. Who will tell me funny stories about you, lulu?, etc.
I will never forget the last conversation I had with him. The doctors talked to us and said his chance for survial were slim. I walked in and watch a small boy climb up his chest. He wiped my Dad's tears and said "Don't cry Paw you aint dead. I love you" My Dad is about to lose it. A man who rarely spoke his feelings to me. I knew my Dad loved me, but when he turned and said I love you and touched my hand. My heart broke and I made my mind up to see and hear him laugh, so I cracked a joke and had him laughing. Of course, I got kicked out of ICU and sent home to take care of the nieces and nephews. Honestly I didn't wanna leave. My place was there. I was his daughter, but the kids looked up to me like their Mom. I put them to sleep knowing in my heart they had just had their last conversation with their hero. Stephanie and Bubba slept on the bunk bed. Amy laid across from them on the daybed. Michael stayed up with me. He was only 4 year old. I went to cleaning and singing my little man to sleep. He woke up at 9:45pm that night. He crawled in my lap smiling. He said Lulu I saw him, he is beautiful. He no hurt no more. He loves us. I tucked him back in. I kissed his forhead. My Dad was right. God deals with children differently. I sat in my dad's chair and stared at the bed we moved into the living room so he could see out. The phone rang....why did she call? My gossiping aunt called before my mom did. Of course Amy was a nosy 15 year old. She listened on the back phone. She freaked out broke the phone. She was yelling and screaming. She woke up the other kids. My Mom and my sibblings pulled up. After everyone finally went to sleep, my Mom woke me up and said I should speak at the funeral. Me??? I am the baby of the sibblings. I am strong. I did it for my mom and my dad. I won't go into what I said. I wrote a poem in his honor and read it and talked. I loved my Dad. I hope I make him proud. I miss working with him on my mustang, watching Braves games and hearing his laugh. So many things I miss about him. Well today would have been my Dad's birthday. I will wear my smile and remember his wonderful personality and his great smile.
Love you Pop. May you rest in peace. After 8 years, you are still as fresh in my memory as ever. :)
