1992 – Dad passed away. Sure do miss him.

Last night, MEG wanted to play school. This involves me sitting in one of her (small) chairs, and filling out worksheets that she has made up previously. Occasionally, there is a craft that she demonstrates and I get to work on.

Last night’s craft was a hand-made “kite” folded out of a sheet of regular paper. The instructions were to tape a piece of ribbon for the tail, and then to color the kite and to make it a Father’s Day kite.

Dad passed away on September 3, 1992. It was the morning of my parent’s 43rd wedding anniversary. I was living in California at the time, with my first wife and her two daughters. I got the call at work (this was pre-cell, remember?), my first wife breaking the news to me in a straight-forward way. “[Sister] just called, your Dad passed away this morning.” A blood clot had broken free in his leg and traveled up to his heart.

So-called “bereavement” rates on airlines meant that the airlines would jack the prices higher than the planes could fly. You see, you book at the last minute, so you have to pay a premium price plus all kinds of fees. Living on the Central Coast of California at the time (north of SLO, in Atascadero) meant the closest airport of any size was two hours away in Santa Barbara. Instead, I drove. Jumped in my Mazda 626 (sure wish I still had that car) and drove like a bat outta hell. Passing through Kingman, I hit a construction patch that tore a hole in one of my tires. I put on the temporary spare and limped up to the truckstops east of Kingman. I pulled into a tire place and got a new tire, and headed on to Flagstaff. I spent a short night at Lea Ann’s house, then in the morning headed down to Tucson. [Younger Brother] didn’t want to go in and see Dad; the rest of us there went up and had a viewing. Dad looked like he had fallen asleep in front of the football game. No, that’s wrong. Dad looked like he was studying the strategy of the football teams on TV.

We saw him there, in a hospital bed, because there was to be no burial or cremation – he had donated his body to the UA medical department for cancer research.

After the priest held a private service in the living room of Mom and Dad’s home, in Tucson Estates, I went home.

All of these memories came rushing over me as my beautiful daughter watched me making the Father’s Day kite. She went out to her Mommy and said “Daddy’s crying!” She was worried that she had done something wrong, or that I didn’t love her anymore because I was crying. We spent the next while explaining to her that sometimes, tears were happy tears. I tried to put into words just how much my Dad would have loved her.

Chat ya later…

Thanks for stopping by, In GOD We Trust, and Wear Red on Fridays!

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September 3rd, 1950 – David Kellog Cartter and Dona Rae Couch were married, marking the start of my family. Theirs would be a long and happy marriage, not without it’s bumps, but for the most part quite normal and middle class.

Early summer, 1992 – Mom and Dad came out to visit me in California. The morning they were getting ready to leave, I insisted on taking them to breakfast. Dad didn’t want to, wanted to get on the road and go. Mom saw the look on my face – I just had the feeling that I wouldn’t see Dad again.

September 3rd, 1992 – the morning of their 42nd Anniversary, Dad had been in the hospital in Tucson overnight for observation; a blood clot broke loose from his leg and moved up into his heart. I was at work when the call came in. I headed for Tucson that afternoon, driving.

It has been twenty years. I know that I should not still be dwelling on this. So much has happened in these years. His youngest granddaughter never got to meet him. I am pretty sure they would have gotten along famously, since I see so much of him in her.

My wife would have loved him also. I know he would have loved her. I know that my wife and my Mom would have gotten along better if he had still been around, but since Mom is gone now too that doesn’t really matter any more.

I still miss him so, so much.

Chat ya later…

Thanks for stopping by, In GOD We Trust, and Wear Red on Fridays!

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Yesterday was kinda busy for me – it was, after all, my day off, so all I managed to do was get to the chiropractor, give blood, take our “new” black lab to the vet, spend time with my daughter, and go to Fellowship where we played live again. The time spent with those we love …

I was thinking about something all day yesterday, but never got time to mention it. Yesterday would have been Dad’s 84th birthday. He passed away on their 42rd anniversary, in 1992. The morbid among us (me, mostly) constantly re-figure how long I have to enjoy my family. We’ll see.

Earl Scruggs passed away yesterday at the age of 88. Porter Wagoner once said that Earl Scruggs was to the five string banjo what Babe Ruth was to baseball. I have to disagree. Babe Ruth was just playing a game. Bluegrass is serious business.

What I didn’t get accomplished yesterday will have to wait until Sunday afternoon. Cleaning up the back yard, cleaning up the side yard, cleaning the garage … the garage keeps getting put at the bottom of the list. As long as TMBWitW can park on her side of my shop the garage, all is well.

Chat ya later…

Thanks for stopping by, In GOD We Trust, and Wear Red on Fridays!

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Dad passed away on this date in 1992.

My parents were married on this date in 1950.

Remembering the good with the sad …

I sure miss you, Dad.