About Me

I am a product of two very different people. My father, who was selfless in every way, kind, and who loved my mother very much. My mother is his polar opposite. I fall somewhere in the middle. My spirit (which is willing) takes after my dad. I have the desire to do good. I have the desire to give. I have the desire to love. Then there's my flesh (which is weak) that I get from my mom. I am tired, grumpy, depressed and some times those things outweigh my spirit.

Now that my dad is gone, I worry that all that I got from him will be forgotten. The last few weeks of my dad's life, I was able to spend with him. After he died, I couldn't get out of my mind the view of him sitting forward in his recliner in pain, emaciated, bony, and strong. The back of his head was covered with brilliant and glorious white hair. I would stroke his hair in my small effort to give comfort and gently rub on his back, which I'm sure didn't bring any comfort but probably pain. But never a complaint was uttered. After he died, I couldn't get that image out of my mind. I just pictured his atrophied body that no one could help or provide relief from.

A few days ago, I was sitting in church quietly thinking with my eyes closed. I looked up at Wyatt and he must have seen some sort of panic in my eyes as he asked me, "What's the matter?"

Tears started streaming as I said, "I can't remember what the back of my dad's head looks like." And just like that, the memory is gone and I can't get it back. I came home and looked through all the pictures I had of him and finally found one of the back of his head.

Will the part of him that lives in me be forgotten--never to be recovered. Or can I live so that every day I am a little more like him.

So.....here goes my life.