Losing Dad. (A Reflection)

     He didn't go quickly. We had a few years of watching his decline, and knowing that his appointment with Jesus was coming, so we tried to see him as often as we could. I moved back to Oklahoma a year or so before Dad passed, thinking I could help Mom and my daddy close down their farm and get things in order. That didn't happen, at least not in the way I thought it might. I guess when I was planning things, I didn't take my siblings (or one in particular) into account any more than she took the rest of us into account.

    Needless to say, after his passing, the dynamics of the family altered to the point that virtually no one who knew us would have recognized what was left of the Stringfellows.  We had not been raised to be friends while we were growing up, so it was no surprise to any of us that we weren't close after we reached adulthood. I think (somehow) Mom was still surprised by the lack of concern or interest we kids had for one another. It is what it is, and what it is certainly isn't begging to be made into a Hallmark movie.

    When Dad passed, I noticed an immediate change in the way things were handled; he hadn't even passed, but was lying in the hospital room when my sister thought she could take control of literally every aspect of my parents' lives and drill the rest of us into whatever corner she chose.  If you know me, and you may by now, I didn't listen to her. She can talk and scream at me until she's blue in the face, and I'll give her that smile I give just before I walk away. She has never been able to tell me what to do, which is part of the dynamic she was hoping to change.

    With Dad safely in the loving arms of Jesus, my Mom stepped into whatever it is that she stepped into. I think I've seen her a couple of times over the past seven years. When she was hospitalized and in rehab over the summer of 2020 (could have been 2021) we weren't allowed into the room with her, and had to literally stand outside in the weather talking to each other by cell through the window. At least dear sister wasn't there to stop me then! Again, it is what it is. I wasn't set up to take Mom into my place, and I am very grateful that she is comfortable, even if she is predominantly sequestered from literally all of us.

    Losing my dad let me reflect on my childhood, my upbringing, how he influenced us, and what it meant to be his favorite child....Oh, yeah, sorry, I just put that part in there. I'm sure he didn't have a favorite, unless he did and told all of us the same thing.  My daddy was a good man, a Christian man, a believer and follower of Christ. He was a Navy man, a quiet man, and a man so in love with his wife, he didn't even know what it would be like to think outside that box. He really was a very very good person.

    I decided to dedicate this book to my dad (Jude's Almost Daily Blog Book 4)  because he did so much for us growing up and he probably never realized the impact he would or did have on us. He built us a giant treehouse without a tree, it was a fort on stilts, and with his knack at carpentry, let me just say people could have lived in the fort rather comfortably if they had a mind to jump the fence, fight back the dogs, and defend themselves against all of us and our friends who used it year round. He drove us places, took us to work with him, fished and camped with us. He cooked while Mom baked. He worked and paid the family bills; no kid thinks about that. He never missed a beat.

    My daddy was the one man I could always depend on, and I did depend on him. He's still watching over us - and no one can convince me otherwise. I love you, Daddy. I always will. 

My dad. Reuben Wayne Stringfellow