Portrait of a Daddy

Today was the 3rd anniversary of my dad's death and you know it gets a bit easier each year.  I have not forgotten him....oh no....my memories of my dad have just grown sweeter with the passage of time.  My father is the third from the left....the next to the smallest....and in my opinion the cutest of them all.  I thought he was the best looking man I had ever met.  He was good looking....inside and out.  My daddy was an amazing man.  Those of you who new him.....will agree....and those that had never met him....I am sorry you missed the chance.  My dad grew up poor.  His father was a sharecropper and they raised cotton.   Life was not easy.

When he was 16 he joined the Navy.  He made a handsome sailor boy.

 

 

When he and my mom married they lived on Georgia Avenue.  It was a great place to live and grow up.  I loved my years of Georgia Ave.

My father was not just a father....he was a daddy.  He loved holding us as kids. He hugged us when we fell down.  He taught us how to fish.  He spent time with us....lots and lots of time.  If you grew up as my father's child then you knew you were the most amazing person in the world.  I know I did.

 

I always thought my dad looked like Tennessee Ernie Ford.  He was such a handsome man.

 

 

 

 

My daughter, Kat, adored the man.  My mom, Wilma, thought he hung the moon.  He was pretty great.

My dad has been gone for 3 years and my mom for 1.5.  This bottom picture is how I think they met each other at the Pearly Gates.  They were so much in love and I am a better person for it.

 

Without You Daddy…

 

Today was a day much like one I experienced 3 years ago.....

 

…a silent, steady rain is falling in my heart.

…a cold, bitter winter wind is blowing outside.

…I sit here listening to all the sad songs on the radio.

…I want to call and make someone else sad....

 

but I don't.  I suffer in silence.

There have been so many times I wanted to call and tell you something....

 

anything.....something wonderful.....something sad.....but...

…I can't because you are not here.

…I stand in for you at funerals....

…I grieve you all over again...it is not well with my soul.....

…not today.....maybe tomorrow.

 

Your "darlin'" called me and told me she had made it through the day....

…One day I will....but it won't be today....today I miss the smell of Old Spice.

 

....your smell....I put on your jacket I keep here.....wait...is that Old Spice I smell?

 

I miss you daddy.....so very much.....

 

but most of all ....I miss me....without you.

Happy Birthday Daddy!

Today is April 14th, it would have been my dad's 84 birthday....but instead it is a day I am going to remember the special times I had with my dad during my 55(56 tomorrow) year tenure as his daughter. I hope you will bear with me.  You see...I was due on the 14th too.  My dad was working across the state of Florida in Ft. Myers.  He took the day off on the 14th to be there when I made my arrival....alas, nothing happened.  My mom did not even have a twinge...all day.  Now, 55 years ago they were not quite so quick to induce labor so your child could be born on a given day...nope...things were done the old fashioned way....you waited.  Very early in the morning, on April 15th, my dad got up, got dressed, and left for Ft. Myers.  Before he walked out the door, he asked my mom if she was feeling alright.  She told him she had never felt better. (oops...today we would know that as a warning sign, especially when she got up and began cleaning the apartment.)  We only had one car back in those days....and my dad was in it.  At 8:00 a.m., my mom had to call a cab, her water had just broken.  My dad had just arrived on his job site in Ft. Myer.  The taxi came, saw my mom and was a bit nervous...it seems that just the week before he had made the paper because he had delivered a baby in the very same backseat my mom was sitting in.  Would the fates be that cruel again?  My mom assured him she was just going to visit a friend in the hospital....and would he drop her off at the emergency room...so she did not have to climb the stairs.  He was so sweet....and after I was born....sent my mom a blanket for me.  My dad on the other hand...who had driven all the way to Ft. Myers....turned around and headed home.  I was born shortly after he arrived.  He told me from the moment he held me and I wrapped my hand around his finger....I also wrapped my hand around his heart.  He and I were one.  Kids are like that....yeah we are!  Today is especially tough for me so if you don't mind would you keep me in your prayers today.  This is the first birthday that my dad and I haven't celebrated since 1954....and I am struggling.  This day will pass...I know that....and next year will be easier.  God bless you all today!  Hug your daddys if you can....if not just hug someone.  It might be the only hug they get all day!

What Do Hands Say About a Person?

The hands you are looking at are my parents hands on their 50th wedding anniversary almost 10 years ago. My father's hands are the top ones....doing what they have always done....shielding my mom. That was a job he took very seriously when I was a child after the death of my brother especially. I have always thought my father had the most interesting hands....they were very strong...yet the skin was always so soft...except for at the tips of his fingers where there were callouses from working hard with them. When my dad was a young man....he had an accident at one of the draw bridges in South Florida. He had ridden it up...like a cowboy....fixed some electrical ailments...but when it came down it had not settled...and his finger got caught in the gap and he lost a chunk of one finger....that was the finger he would always point at me when I would get out of line....it would bring me back in line very quickly. My father never used his hands in anger. His hands were always for uplifting his fellow man and when you look at his hands...even his 83 year old hands...you see a man who worked hard to take care of those he loved. My mom's hands are on the bottom of the picture. My mom also has strong hands...yet they are hands that needed protecting from harsh realities of the world. If she ever hurt anything when I was a child...it would be her hands...so her hands carry a lot of life lessons around on them. My parents still hold hands...and I think that is pretty cool for an 80 and 83 year old. Of course now it is more done to steady the other one....it is still a sweet gesture...don't you think? My hands look like my parents...just newer. I too have calloused fingers...but mine are from playing the guitar, I don't have a job that would warrant callouses. Oh, I have scars and bumps, knots, bruises....but when you look at my hands...you see someone who is willing....willing to take on the world....for a friend. Frank has the coolest of hands. He has beautifully long, graceful fingers (mine are short and choppy)and you can tell from his hands that he has used them to support himself for a long time. His finger tips have callouses....and he is not afraid of hard work. I love to put my hand in his...because like my father...his hands are very reassuring...and protective. Do you ever look at people's hands? Do you ever wonder what they do? Do you ever wonder what story their hands have? I do all the time...just like right now...I am curious as to what your hands say about you?

Update on Dad and the Five Stages of Grief

(My dad is the second one from the right. The oldest is my uncle Wilson, the next my uncle Cecil, then my dad, then my uncle Drew. They were handsome boys weren't they?) Several of you have asked how my dad is doing....well I guess I have not updated you in a while so I thought today was a good day to take care of that. Radiation is over for now....maybe. We had a CT scan yesterday and have a doctor's appointment on Weds. with Dr. Jahraus at the Cancer Center. Chemo was ended when he spent 8 days in the hospital getting blood. With all that said and done...his hair is almost gone...he just has tufts where it used to be. His eyes are sunken and he has no energy at all. He sleeps til 10:00 in the morning...and goes to bed by 4 in the afternoon. He does not talk a lot. He watches TV...and when you do get him to look at you...it is a blank stare. I miss my father. My dad was a vibrant fun and amusing man....this man in my house right now...is just a mere shell of the man I have known all my life. He does not know what day it is. He does not know what year it is. He still recognizes people....thank goodness for that....but to me it looks like he has quit. I guess I am a fortunate one...Dr. Elisabeth Kubler-Ross has written about the five stages of grief and to be quite honest...it could be the stages of a person dealing with a loved one with a terminal illness. She says that,"at some point in our lives, each of us faces the loss of someone or something dear to us. The grief that follows such a loss can seem unbearable, but grief is actually a healing process. Grief is the emotional suffering we feel after a loss of some kind. The death of a loved one, loss of a limb, even intense disappointment can cause grief." Dr. Ross says that "sometimes people get stuck in one of the first four stages. Their lives can be painful until they move to the fifth stage - acceptance. The first stage is denial and isolation. I guess as a daddy's girl I have been hanging in a denial stage of all the things that are wrong with my dad.The second stage is Anger. I have been angry during my dad's illness....angry at the doctors, angry at my mom, angry at Frank, angry at my dad...even angry at God. The third stage is bargaining and oh yes,I have even found myself making bargains with God here. I have promised God all kinds of things...if he would just heal my dad. The fourth stage is depression and I have not been there yet. I hope I can be fortunate enough to skip that stage. Stage 5 is acceptance. It is what it is! My father is 83. His brothers died before they were 65. He is the only living sibling of 6. He is living on borrowed time to quote him. When he says that it makes me laugh...morbid thought...but he is so funny when he says it. Keep praying for my dad, my family, and me.....this is a difficult time for us. I appreciate all the prayers so far...and all the ones that have yet to be spoken.

Wonderful News for a Stormy Wednesday

I am so very excited. Today was my father's last radiation treatment. He is through and none the worse for the wear. His chipperness has returned in a diminished capacity...but there. He still has hair...just not as much as he used to have. I want so to run my fingers through his hair like I did as a child....but the last time I touched his hair I brought a handful back with me...and it was a freaky feeling. I know my mom will be glad to be through with radiation....everyday...five days a week...gets old fast. She loves early morning appointments....and after his hospital stay....they lost that slot and had to go everyday at 2:00. That timing element curtailed their rambling a bit. His appetite is returning somewhat...although slowly. He bought some green beans, new potatoes and tomatoes at the Avondale truck farmer. I snapped them all (we will be eating beans for a while), and cooked them, the potatoes, some fresh squash, porkchops, cornbread, and sliced up tomatoes and onions. He ATE! I was tickled to see him put the veggies away. I will cook them for him everyday if he will eat them. So life at the Korb house is returning to some resemblance of normalcy and for that I am glad. The stress of the cancer treatments took their toll on all of us. It is not fun to see someone you love lose their hair, their appetite, their personality...everything! I realize that my dad is 83 years old and things will continue to arise and we will deal with each one as it comes. It is a good thing that God is on our side. I would hate to know we had to face this alone. I want to thank each of you who offered up a prayer for my dad's healing. I love this man. I love all of you! I stand before you today to let you know that prayer works. PTL!