Wednesday, June 24, 2009

I Miss Him


I miss hearing him whistle. I don’t remember ever hearing him sing, but I heard him whistle just about every single day. To me, it was as sweet and lovely as any birdsong.

I miss his hands. Big, strong, hardworking hands that could fix anything, yet were soft and elegant and neatly manicured.

I miss how he used to point at the three of us when we hadn’t been his little darlings. His ring finger and thumb would form a circle while each of the other fingers aimed straight for the heart of an errant little girl.

I miss how handsome he looked in baby blue.

I miss how he combed his hair. Not his hairstyle, but how he combed his hair.

I miss how he called his truck, his “cruck.”

I miss seeing him drive; how he leaned into the door, left elbow hanging out of the window. His right arm extended loosely up and over the steering wheel which supported his wrist while his fingers hung between it and the dashboard.

I miss how he used to run “up the street” or “around the block” and come home later with three tiny little brown paper bags filled with bubble gum and brightly wrapped candies sure to make the three of us very happy and the dentist very rich.

I miss answering the phone and hearing him say, “Hey, Bebbo…” or, “Hey, Bebby.”

I miss hearing him call my daughter “Anniebelle.” I wish he could know her now.

I miss hearing him say, “be sweet,” because I knew that really meant “I love you.” For some reason, those words came hard to him, but I didn’t need them. I knew I was loved and loved well.

I miss playing cards with him and hearing him holler with laughter when he “whupped the pants off” of us again and again. And again!

I miss his version of Br’er Rabbit and the Tarbaby. Nobody did sound effects like he did.

I miss calling out to him and hearing his cheerful, clipped, “wut?” in reply.

I miss getting birthday cards signed “Pop” in his tiny, neat handwriting.

I miss how he loved America and John Wayne and Foghorn Leghorn.

I miss how he loved squirrels; how he’d sit on his deck for hours and feed them peanuts, trying to make friends with them. I don’t think he would like it if he knew that she hated them now.

I miss his quietness; how he didn’t need to fill silent spaces with chatter. When he did speak, it was worth listening to.

I miss everything about him. I know that he wasn’t a perfect man, but I loved him with all of my heart and longed to chase his demons away. I wanted to know what caused that quiet sadness that was a part of him and somehow make it all better. Some days, the loss is bearable; no more than a vague, dull ache way in the back of my heart, barely noticeable over the happy clatter of my life. But some times, like this weekend, it’s loud and sharp and raw and it hurts and I would do almost anything to have just one more hour with him, to hug him and tell him I love him. I miss him.

For the last two days, I’ve ridden around town in a little blue truck with the other man in my life. As we’ve gathered plywood and 2x4’s and screws and paint and all the things to set our girl up in housekeeping, I’ve had a chance to think about just how much he’s like my daddy. He has the same values and morals and politics. He, too, has strong, hardworking hands that can fix anything. He doesn’t whistle, but he sings like an angel. He’s a quiet man who loves America and John Wayne and Foghorn Leghorn. And me. He chases my demons away and makes it all better. I am blessed to have found him and will celebrate that every single day for the rest of my life.


For more celebrations, please visit
chatting at the sky

18 comments:

deb said...

those are words that need to be read , felt and held in a heart

southerninspiration said...

That just about takes my breath away.....lovely words....you can just sink into them.

Suzanne

JulyG319 said...

BEAUTIFUL!!! Gave me goose bumps again! I love your writing and the way I can feel what you are feeling when I'm reading.

jd3 said...

That just about says it all. You painted a perfect picture of the man I loved as much as my dad. He was a special man with a special daughter. I'll miss him as long as I live.

The Scooper said...

What a lovely tribute.

Dawn said...

gosh... your lovely heart must ache with loss... and be filled with love... all at once. your words, and the way you painted a picture of the men you adore... lovely.

emily said...

Lord have mercy woman, that was beautiful. I feel like I just read the opening scene in a novel that I didn't want to end.

dede said...

beautiful words
priceless picture
makes me want to take note of every move my dad makes next time we are together - thanks

Becky said...

You described my grandaddy to a "t". Thank you for painting such a vivid word picture of memories.

Sweet Annabelle said...

This is a wonderful tribute to your dad. I'm in a time of turmoil with mine, and my heart is hurting - Father's Day was especially difficult this year. I loved reading about yours,

s

ivecomethisfar said...

Made me cry again! I too wish that I had a chance to know him; the memories are very fuzzy and very few, but you make him real to me.

Richella said...

That was so beautiful. Thank you for writing it.

I've been going through a hard time with my own father. Formerly buried memories of some very hard things have surfaced and need to be processed. But there are many things about him that I love--it sounds as if there are many things about him that are like your dad. I am hopeful that I can sift through the hard stuff so that I can really be grateful for the good stuff.

Mylestones said...

Bee-what a beautiful tribute to your Dad. Thanks for sharing it here with us.

carin davis said...

Your words are so beautiful. I am reminded so much of my own dad as I read them...feeling lucky that he is still with us~ inspired to take more time to enjoy the time we do have.

deb said...

thank you for stopping by and your kinds words.
all these life stories, up and down moments
It's comforting this cyber sharing I think.

Tom and Cindy said...

Beautiful post. Thank you for sharing.
I have not been able to read your blog daily (Dad w/ cancer) but enjoyed this one.
Cindy

sherri said...

This is beautiful. I feel like I know this man...you tugged at my heart strings.

Absolutely beautiful.

Martha Davis said...

Bee, so touching. Sure brought some tears to my eyes. Feeling a little melancholy today. I guess we all have a story.

 
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