my dad
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Good Saturday morning friends, The wind has laid, finally. I feel like I can breathe now. It really has battered us, our homes, our fences, our shingles. But today is a good day and I have a story from my dad for you. Hanging with Watoshy, in ’95 Sitting there playing with my bacon and… Read more
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My dad was a golfer. There was usually a set of golf clubs in the back of his work truck, just in case. As a little girl I remember times when he’d suddenly remark, “Let’s go hit some golf balls.” Oh the joy I would feel. I was going to get to golf! So he’d… Read more
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It’s Saturday. Which means I’m thinking of my dad today. He died on a Saturday. My sister nailed it when she compared it to a new born’s age. You count every day of their life. Here in the beginning stages of my dad’s passing, and our grieving, we count each day too. It’s been 12 days, It’s been… Read more
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As we packed up the house this past week, and walked out the door to spend the night in our new home, I looked around the rooms at the emptiness of them. The pictures were off the walls, the furniture had been carried out. There was nothing left except an old chair or two and a… Read more
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Today it has been two very fast weeks since my dad’s death. I’ve been doing okay, I really have. My loved ones (and his) have been grieving something fierce, and I’ve been worrying about myself because I seem to be living life just like before February 27th. I ponder if I’m giving myself time to grieve, if… Read more
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The benches were damp that morning along the hike ‘n bike trail there in Clearwater, Texas. Remnants of an early morning storm lingered and kept away the usual occupants of the park. No kids, no squirrels, no homeless people. Just me and the thin morning light kept each other company that day. I was… Read more
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This morning I opened my eyes and the world was still turning. It still is, and more likely than not, it will continue to do so. Everything is real. Nothing has been a dream. Although it seems surreal, we laid my dad to rest yesterday in a beautiful service. A service I hope he would’ve been proud of. My sweet husband J-Dub… Read more
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Hello friends, Here’s a second story from my dad. This was dated January 27, 1996. It is called Marking One’s Progress Through the Ages on the Doorjamb of Life. He had celebrated a birthday 11 days prior. As I write this I reflect back to the 16th of January. That was the day that I turned 53… Read more
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My family and I are in the midst of burying my dad. It’s hard. But tonight we sat around my grannie’s kitchen table and told our stories. And we laughed. And laughed. And laughed. It’s good medicine. It’s what my dad would’ve wanted. My dad was a writer. He spent some time writing sports and commentary… Read more
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This won’t be eloquent. I don’t have the energy to make it sound pretty. My dad is gone, and my heart is broken. A million shards. People say cherish the memories. And I do, and I will. But what about our plans? You may think I’m stupid, but I wanted him to see my chickens. They’re… Read more
Angel Wheeler 