Pictures

In a sad way Dad's life has been reduced to the contents of an Old Navy bag that sits up in our office. In it are photos we used at his funeral, his hat, his cell phone, the cards we received after the funeral, the death certificates, thank you cards, and some other odds and ends. Of course, that is not all that is left of Dad. We still have his house full of items and the land and machinery. But that Old Navy bag now has to fill the void in my life right now.

Whenever I hear the phone ring, for a split second I hurry to answer it out of habit the way I used to do when Dad would call to visit or report about his doctor visits. Then I remember that he is gone and I take my time to the phone. Whenever I see a semi, I think of Dad's red one that he put so many miles on. Whenever I see a little kid playing in the street, I think of how Dad would have stopped and talked to him or gave him a big wave or - if he were in the semi - gave him a honk from his air horn.

But Dad still lives on. In me.

Every morning I see more of him in my eyes.

Every day I feel him more in my actions. Yesterday afternoon on my way home, I notice a flock - is that the right word? - of wild turkeys feeding in a field right along side highway 32. There were a few proud males spreading their tails and prancing among the females. Instantly I sped up to fetch Koko. I knew she would love seeing them. That is what Dad would have done for me.

In that Old Navy bag, I found one of my favorite pictures of Dad. He is leaning up against the side of his old blue Chevy Silverado. He has his trademark cap on. It's summer and we're no doubt getting ready to haul some hay or go bale some hay somewhere. As I look at it, I think I'm even starting to get his hands for I fold them the same way. I even twiddle my thumbs - something Dad did often when waiting or riding in the passenger seat.