One Year.

It’s impossible to fathom that it’s been one year since I lost my Dad. A million times I’ve wanted to ask him a question or tell him something funny I know will make him laugh. The first time I screwed up and told a friend I’d ask my Dad how we were related to her neighbor and I saw her freeze. Immediately realized what I said and told her I guess I wouldn’t be able to do that, all the while repeating inside, “Please don’t cry, please don’t cry.”  

The only family photo we have that includes all of us. 

I try to remember details of that last hospital visit that we had no idea would be the last. The details have gotten grainy. Did I stay the last night? Or was it the night before? I don’t know that any of us would remember everything correctly, it was such a blur. 

Dad and A. at Christmas, sporting their new hats

We always celebrated our birthdays together

Pop passed 15 minutes before his birthday. The poor nurse cried more than us-we were halfway in shock. I wondered if I should hug her, too, while hugging mom. 

He wanted a pic like LB- with a kid on each side. lol
 M’s First birthday. 

Talk about “His Girl!” They were crazy for each other! He would brush her hair so gently so it wouldn’t hurt. 

Enough of those days. More of who he was. He was smart, insanely smart. Could do figures and make blueprints in his head. Or sometimes he pulled out a pencil and wrote right on the hood of his old truck. He could see what he wanted to make and then he’d make it. My brother is a lot like him in that regard. 

He never met a stranger and would go on with some junk with anyone. When we were kids I remember him wearing cutoff blue jeans and cowboy boots in the grocery store at the beach. He was pushing his buggy and “dancing” in the aisles and it was HILARIOUS. He never was a fan of the beach and would opt to do all the grocery shopping instead of battling the sand. He would get us set up with all our belongings and the umbrellas up, overlapping for maximum shade, and head out until we needed to be picked up. 

 

These two cuties- we prayed over these kiddos. They loved to listen to Daddy talk and read them stories. 

Three generations (missing Liam) but the boys loved playing on PawPaw George’s tractors. 

And he loved. He loved big. My mom, who he celebrated year 52 with in the hospital. So thankful for their love. His three children with our very different personalities. He was so proud of each of us for very specific, individual reasons. And his grandbabies. Gracious he was so happy to have grandbabies to spoil and love on. He was a very special man and is so very missed. Love you, Daddy.