A QUARTER OF A CENTURY

 

I’ll start out with I’m not depressed.   This is just a season of reflection for me, not just this year, but every year when the flowers and trees come to life.    

25 years can seem like an eternity, or flash in time.  It just depends on where you are looking from.   In 1997 I made three trips from Charlotte, NC to Shreveport, LA.  For those that have not made the drive, that’s roughly 850 miles each way.  Speed limit was still 55 mph back then.  So, the trips were generally 15 hours. At that point in life, I was what I’d call poor, so it was a stretch to even pay for gas, little alone a motel room.  Sometimes bills were put on a credit card to float me another 30 days.

It started in late February when everything was still dead from the winter.  The trees stood bare, the fields were brown and unappealing.  I went home to see dad who was having lung surgery to remove a cancerous tumor from his lung.  Considering the hospital was 90 miles from mom’s house she was staying in a room at a home for families in hospitals.  I remember rotating with my mom and my Aunt Jo Ann in that little room.

Later in the month I was planning to come home for when dad returned home to help mom.  Mom weighed about half what dad weighed and was a good 9 inches shorter.  It was going to take both of us to care for him.  The only problem was dad had pneumonia and was not doing well.  I decided to make the trip anyway to give mom a break.  The drive this time was when the earliest spring flowers and trees were blooming.  The Daffodils, Redbuds, Bradford Pears were all showing out that year.  It made for a beautiful ride.   That week dad and I had some conversations I now look back on and realize he was preparing me for what was next.  He told me at that point just how proud he was to have me as a son.  We talked about life (his and mine).  He had regrets I guess he needed me to know about, and funny as big as they were to him, they were nothing at all to me.

I remember when I was leaving to drive home, he didn’t want me to leave.  It was one of my regrets that I left and went home.  I was going back for a week then was going to come right back.   But I was home less than 24 hours, and the dreaded call came in the middle of the night on April 2 that dad had passed about an hour earlier.

The final trip was April 3 when everything was in full bloom, it was glorious that year.  The dogwoods, cherry trees, tulips and all the southern flowers just seemed to be in full swing.  I was driving home for my dad’s funeral.  It was such a sad time, but the beauty around me somehow comforted me. Dad’s passing was such a shock, even though you knew it could happen, it just couldn’t.  He drove himself to the hospital with all plans to drive himself home.

Dad’s passing was the biggest shift in my life at that point.   I know he’d be proud of me if he were here today.   I doubt he’d recognize me in a crowd, until he heard my voice, or saw my eyes. He would be amazed to know the places I’ve been blessed enough to visit.  He would love that I have the gypsy sprit he had, and that I have friends scattered around the world.    

We were far from rich, but dad showed me so much in a short 32 years.  Never once did I feel I wasn’t loved, respected, or valued.

Spring always reminds me of dad.  Every year when the flowers bloom and the trees come to life, I take pause to remember that year a quarter of a century ago. 

Through all my families struggles that year, a dear friend of mine had her baby at 25 weeks during this time.  My cousin had her daughter.  Both are turning 25 this month.

I think of both my parents now.  I remember my mom and everything she did for her husband, and her son’s father.  She showed a graceful strength I never quite knew she had until then.

I started writing this while listening to Marty Haggard singing one of my favorite songs of his dad’s “Mama’s Hungry Eyes”.  If you like old country go listen to this version, a tribute to his father.  While our lives were not as dire as in the song, there is so much of our lives wrapped in those words.

Even when I have tears, I feel so blessed.  I would not have these tears, had I not had the blessings I’ve had.    

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