Ten Years

Ten years ago today I lost my beloved father to colon cancer. The first picture is of me and him at Easter, 1993. The second picture -- 1956, the year I was born.

My father was a rare person. Quiet, thoughtful, VERY witty, kind, put others first, wise...of course he wasn't perfect, as none of us are, but to desire to be like him would be a good goal.

One day, after beginning first grade, I announced that I was not going to school that day. My mother said she thought, "Oh yes, you are!" My father took me into my bedroom and began chatting with me. Mom said he and I came out after a while, with my father announcing happily, "Linda is going to school today!" Mom thought, "I knew that!!"

My Dad took the time to listen to me. Always. He found out on that day that I thought first grade took too long -- I hated being gone from home all day.

Dad listening to me never changed. I was always Daddy's girl. Whenever I had any problem, concern, or ahem, disobedience, Dad would come to my room and talk. I realize now that he did more listening than talking. My Dad KNEW me, and what he didn't understand, he accepted, and remembered.

My Mom and I are alike in personality, but not temperment, and often did not get along. Dad was the peacemaker, as he KNEW both of us, and could explain us to each other, and give us suggestions. I credit any closeness with my mother, to my father. Now that he is gone, I can truly see how much of a buffer he was; my relationship with my mother is strained. We love each other very much, and communicate weekly by letter, but it's not like it used to be when Dad was around. When Dad died, I had a sense of being orphaned -- he was the one person in my family who knew and understood me. (please don't get a wrong picture of my mother -- she is a GREAT person -- we are simply extremely different in ways that make it difficult to be close; sad, huh?)

I could fill pages and pages with good memories of my father. He even died as he lived. Quietly, loving us, and with dignity. The morning of the day he died I told my mother there were angels in the room. I was VERY lonely that morning, and the Lord knew I needed an extra something. I could see the angels with my spirit, not my eyes. That has not happened to me before, or since then -- it was a special "I love you" from Jesus! There was an angel on the foot of my Dad's bed, waiting to take him home. There was one in the far corner -- that was my angel -- and I felt there was an angel with my mother and another one with my sister.

I had great peace all that day. Great sorrow, but great peace.

So, Daddy, I can't believe you've been gone ten years. I feel your absence often and still cry when certain things spark a memory. I can't wait to see you and to never be separated again.

Forever Nineteen

I wonder today, "what would you be like at 24 years old?" Would you have more of a beard? Could your voice be any deeper than it already was? Would you still prefer the short short hair? Would you have your own apartment? A nice girlfriend...or wife? Any more children? Would you still be in the same line of work? Would you have taken your music somewhere you always wanted it to go? Would you have let the alcohol overwhelm you, or would you have won that battle?

A thousand questions with no answers. You will never be 24. You are forever 19. Not a boy anymore, but honestly, not quite a man. But always a son. My son. My baby boy. Taller than me, but my baby boy.

I couldn't go to the cemetery today, which is a first for me. Normally I want to go, to change the flowers, to spend some time. I don't know why I feel this way, and I don't care -- I have learned to feel what I feel, to go with it. This year, 2010, your 24th birthday...no cemetery visit.

Your daughter is so much like you. Consequences? "I don't care." You said the same thing to me. (but I learned from you to not give in -- I can outwait her in a way I never outwaited you)She is playing outside today. Like you loved to do. She digs. She climbs. She hugs. She is generous one moment and bullheaded and angry the next. Like you.

Happy Birthday, son, forever 19.

Paul's birthday

Today is Paul's Paul must have thought this was a
birthday. If he'd lived, he'd great book!
be 24 years old. As it is, he
will be forever 19. Here are
some pictures from 1987.

This is Paul and Laura having a tea party with a Christmas dog. I would love to tease Paul about

his pinky finger sticking out!

Oh how I wish Paul would have continued to have enjoyed helping me vacuum!

Here is Paul helping his Dad fix something. THIS did continue until he died -- the last project they did together was to paint a house.

DUDE!!!

Paul was cool before his teen years!

Busy boy -- who knows what he was doing, but he was intense, as always!

Paul and Laura, so cute!

And....the hospital picture!!! His poor little bruised face! They went away soon, though.

So, Happy Birthday to my boy. This day is difficult. A Mom wants to cook a favorite meal, bake a cake, buy balloons, wrap gifts.