Tuesday, April 11, 2006

The Reflection of a Year

A year ago today we lost our Dad. The past year for me has been a journey of discovery in many ways. The past year for me has been a time of quiet reflection, a time gather my memories of family, of harmony and the fellowship of love. Aside from the grief and feeling of loss it has brought serious contemplation of the importance of family, the necessity of unassailable caring for one another and the need to resolve differences and reach a level of unimpeachable understanding between us all. And it isn’t always easy to accomplish. Dad was, and in many ways still is, the King of our Mountain, the Emperor of his Realm and the stalwart port in the storm. His passing didn’t change that for me, with the exception that he is physically no longer among us. He has became the voice of my conscience, the imp whispering in my ear with sometimes less than tactful suggestions for dealing with the stresses and problems of day to day life. I have learned to curb my anger and guard my tongue, to think twice before I act and ALWAYS, ALWAYS to think of how someone will hear what I am saying.
While I am not happy Dad is gone from us, I am content that he is where he wanted to be. Don’t get me wrong, I miss him terribly, his irreverent humor, his quick wit and his domineering ways, which, at times, drove us to desperation. I still expect the telephone to ring with his demand (notice I didn’t say request - - he seldom asked but expected it anyway) for assistance at anything from digging a post hole to burying a dead dog. I listen for the sound of a heavy truck in my driveway, horn blaring loudly, filled with the command for your presence at the side window of his pick-up. An old country ballad on the radio makes me smile and tap my foot in time to the music, where before I shed tears. I love the sensation of walking where his boots trod for so many years, seeing with my eyes what he loved so deeply about the land, broad pastures and the dense woods surrounding our home. I can touch his tools and almost see the sweat glistening on his brow as he labored to complete an everyday task. It’s a feeling of peace, of quiet faith that all will be well in the future. It gives me hope that we five sisters can resolve the accumulation of nearly fifty years of marriage….. trash and treasure, without blood loss, without alienation and, most of all, without remorse or further pain.

3 comments:

Unknown said...

Well writen about Dad and high hopes for the future. I, too, wish we could work everything out.

Hopes and dreams are like mist and fog. You can see them but they don't amount to much. I figure things will work out one way or another. I just hope the price ain't too high, and I'm not talking just about $$$

Oscar R. Warren said...

Thanks Donna, this is a nice tribute to your pa. You girls will work things out just fine... It always works like that with us southern folk.

yellowdoggranny said...

daddys and their girls..i was an only child..and when he died in '82 i was 39..and he still called me his baby..i will and do miss him everyday...i bed it was great for him to have all you girls to love...