Two women I know lost their fathers to the COVID-19 virus over the last couple of weeks. I can’t begin to imagine their pain. Not only have they lost someone so important in their life, but it’s happened at such an odd and difficult time. Neither of them was able to properly say goodbye. The grieving process is hard enough, and now it’s different for them, and it’s all because of this virus and how it’s affected our lives.
I am truly blessed, though. Not only are both of my parents still with me -- my father turned 80 in February, but we were recently able to celebrate my father’s life with family and friends.
The best way to sum up my father is to say that he’s a good man. Dad is honest, hard working, and ethical, qualities he developed growing up the eighth of nine children on a working farm. He tends to be on the quiet side, which may be because he lost his mother when he was 13, or maybe he’s just quiet. My brother and I learned early in life to listen when Dad spoke because it was probably going to be something we either needed or wanted to hear.
Mom would play endless games of rummy or Sorry! with us, but Dad made little toys for us. He made pop guns that shot dogwood berries or slingshots, things that had Mom worrying about one of us getting injured, but I don’t recall any boo boos along the way. I only remember those little toys and the fun.
Dad raises a garden every summer, and they were huge because it fed us throughout the year. I remember watching Dad break ground with a horse and plow, a tiller, a hoe, whatever he needed and had access to. He would work all day and then come home and spend hours in the garden. I loved it when the fresh vegetables started coming into season. Dad and I both love to slice a tomato and enjoy it by itself. I would help Mom shell peas and snap beans. We all loved fresh corn on the cob, hot and smothered in butter, but Mom and Dad would slice it off the cob, freeze it, and then we’d have Mom’s fried corn all winter. Fresh green beans are delicious, but canned ones got us through until the next crop.
More than once Dad would come home expecting to harvest something, only to discover that I’d found a few first. I would walk between the rows during the day, find something ripe and tasty, and pick it to enjoy right then and there. Green peppers frequently went missing when I was around. I ate them like apples. Still do.
Dad continues to garden, but the plot is smaller now.
Dad’s had a few jobs through the years. He worked at Service City when I was born. Then it was the State of Kentucky. He hauled water to fill people’s cisterns when we lived in Orangeburg, and he worked in a factory when we lived on Jersey Ridge. He was also an auxiliary police officer for a while. He worked in another factory after we moved to Cookeville, and then it was off to Bunny Bread, followed by an automotive store. It may seem like he changed jobs more than some, but in fact, he often worked two jobs at a time. Did I mention that Dad is a hard worker?
About 30 years ago Dad started a successful lawn equipment business. He’s had farm equipment, mowers, blowers, chainsaws, and he and my brother service it all. It’s a fine tribute to his hard work.
Around the end of last year, my brother and I realized that Dad would be turning 80 in February, and we plotted to throw him a surprise party. The one thing my father treasures more than anything is his family. He’s never happier than when he’s surrounded by his children, grandchildren, and great-grandchildren. We thought a monumental birthday, such as an 80th, would be an excellent reason to gather everyone.
I managed to not only invite the immediate family, but I also invited Dad’s brothers, nieces, nephews, and other family members. Michael found us a nice place to have the covered dish lunch, the food was arranged, and I baked a cake from my grandmother’s recipe, the one she would bake for birthdays.
When the day arrived, we had a good 40 able to attend, which is a nice size crowd for a winter birthday. Dad was truly surprised when he came in to see everyone. Both of his children were present, and we gathered all of his grandchildren except one. J.D. was out on the road and couldn’t make it in, but Jonathan and his family came in from Oregon, Jordan came up from Lewisburg, and the rest of Michael’s children made it. That meant all of Mom & Dad’s great-grandchildren were there as well. Sadly, neither of Dad’s brothers could join us, although his 92-year-old brother did chat for a bit via Face Time. We had cousins from Kentucky, who were able to stay for a couple of days. I stayed in Cookeville for a few days myself.
I realize how fortunate I am to have my parents. A couple of women I know recently lost their fathers, but I’m still able to celebrate mine.
