My Daddy

Today marks one year since my Daddy passed away.  Grief is weird.  Some memories (good and bad) are magnified by grief, some are diminished.  Maybe it was because my Daddy worked so much, but he didn't talk much. I only remember a handful of stories he'd tell of his childhood or early work experiences. So even though I had my Daddy for 37 years, he remains a bit mysterious.


Not long after my Daddy's funeral, my Aunt Cookie (his second sister) wrote me this letter describing some of the way he impacted her life.  It has become one of my most prized possessions. Here is an expert from that letter.




     I was shocked and saddened when your dad, my brother, died. It was sudden - but perhaps
     that was best.


     I have thought of our time together as a family and he holds a special place in my heart.
     First, when I was born I could not have milk in any form and Buddy milked a goat for
     me for several years.  He helped save my life. I vaguely remember the goat tied in the
     back yard so I know it was for quite a few years.  Second, I had a dog named Junior.
     I loved him so much. He would always run to meet me at the school bus. One day, he did
     not make it and so I reached under the bus to grab him. I felt a very strong hand grab me
     at the neck and pull me back. It was Buddy; he saved me again.  Because I left home at
     such an early age, I missed growing up with my brothers and sisters. But Buddy would
     always stop to see me when I came home to see Mama and Daddy. Not everyone did;
     I always appreciated that and though he didn't talk a lot - he always came and so I
     hope my few memories are just that.  I wanted to share them with you - he was a good
     brother and I love him.


This letter meant/means so much to me.  Not everyone liked my dad, even among his own family.  He had a temper as a young man and didn't always make good choices.  He rarely apologized for those choices.  He had a very black-white moral ethic about him; things were either wrong or right, no gray area and so there was little compassion for those not in the right.  But he was also an incredibly hard worker, kind to people (particularly those of other races which was unusual for a man of his generation), and always willing to help someone in need. 


Miss you, Daddy! Hope to see you again.

One of my favorite pics.  Daddy trying to read the paper (as he did everyday) and baby Hudson trying to tear up the paper.