Friday, June 13th

I'm not sure how often we have a 'Friday the 13th', and especially a Friday, June 13th. I know we had one in 1980 - that was the day my dad died. He was 58 years old.

There are few times in my life that I can remember exactly what I was doing...can remember all the minute details of that time...when I heard some news. This was one of those times.

My mom, Aunt Jane, and my cousin, Ray, were on their way to visit. I thought they would get to our house that evening. I had gone to take a shower and when I got out, my guy said, "Your mom called to say they were staying the night in Susanville...and Mrs. Busby called. Something has happened to your dad." Quote - unquote. I remember it exactly.

I called the hospital where they had taken him but no one would tell me anything. I'M HIS DAUGHTER! But they wouldn't tell me anything. So I called my mom...who called the hospital. They told her he had passed on. Mom, Aunt Jane, and Ray checked out of their hotel and started driving through the night. I'm not sure how they did it.

Ray ended up staying at our house with Josh and Gabe (this is before Lindsey was born...before I even knew I was pregnant with her). Mom, Aunt Jane, and I left the next day and flew home. John David had had to take care of everything by himself until we got there...how hard was that?

As John David and I went around, we heard about how happy our dad had been that day. He worked as a sports editor for a large newspaper...they said he had been in such a good mood, laughing and talking all day. Then we went to the Waffle House where he often stopped off after work. He had gone there that day...they said the same thing. When he died, he was sitting on our neighbors porch listening to ... I think it was the U.S. Open golf tournament. A brain anurisym is what took his life.

My dad... here it is 28 years later and I still miss him. I see evidence of him all around me. This blog is evidence. My dad loved to write...I obviously love to write too. My dad often gave people nicknames...I do that too...my boys do that. Penzrod, Jethro, Jutze, Slim, The Sadster, etc... He spent most of his life a 'meat and potatoes' kind of guy - Hello Joshua! He certainly loved sports...and all three of my kids have that love too. He was also a man of incredible patience and above all, he absolutely adored his family. I think all of us have that trait, a love of family.

When Joshua was born, he called him "Big Josh"... He would come over and sit and rock, and rock, and walk, and walk, with Joshua. He adored Josh, cherished him. I wish my boys could remember their Grandfather... Josh was 4 years old, Gabe was only 1 1/2 when he died. The day after my dad's funeral, I found out I was pregnant with Lindsey. I remember the verse that came in my mind that day, 'The Lord giveth, and the Lord taketh away, Blessed be the name of the Lord.'Daddy and Joshua...

28 years ago...it doesn't seem possible.