Since I record everything, I can’t move forward on this blog without sharing what happened the day of my precious Daddy’s funeral.

My Mom is bedridden, so it was a blessing that we were able to borrow someone’s handicapped specialty van to transport her to the funeral.

Thankfully my brother-in-law was there to help my husband get her down the steps and into the van.

Everything seemed to be going as planned …

We arrived 30 minutes early (as directed), but as we approached the grave site I was SHOCKED.  The contractor that was “hired” by the funeral home to prepare the grave was NOT THERE.   Oh folks, you cannot imagine the panic that flooded over me.  I was in the back of that van and I tried everything I could to get out.  Guests were already arriving, the family was arriving … how embarrassing!   There was no tent.  No chairs.  No fake grass.  The ground hadn’t been disturbed!  Ridiculous!  The funeral director said he was about to have a coronary (though I rebuke that word curse).  He had arrived 30 minutes earlier than us and was freaking out himself.

That wasn’t the only bad thing that happened …

I totally forgot to mention that the morning of the funeral we received a call around 7am.  Our hay barn was on FIRE!  Yes, fully engulfed in flames.  Nice way to start the day of my daddy’s funeral.  What in the world?   The barn and hay were history, but those things can be replaced.   See these trucks?  I had to drive by all of these firetrucks to get to my parent’s house.

Yep, this is what was left of our barn.  The hay is ruined.

Back to the funeral — it was a precious celebration of my father’s life and his character.

Here is the obituary written for my daddy:   I will remove his name and the names of my family, city, etc …

____(My Daddy)_____ went to heaven on May 8, 2012 at 90 years of age. He is survived by his wife of 57 years M, son D and wife M; daughter K and husband K; daughter Beth and husband ___. He also leaves behind 4 siblings, 5 grandchildren, and 3 great-grandchildren.

Hydrangea’s, Magnolia’s, Gardenias, Sweet -Besty bushes, Mimosas, and Roses will always remind us of our father. He loved working outdoors and inherited his mother’s love of flowers.

Our father spent most of his adult life working in ______, NC. He retired from _______ as a service manager back in the late 80’s. He blessed many people in ______ with his fresh-cut bouquets of flowers and friendship. Most of his customers knew him as “K” while in his community he was called “Preacher.”

He was a giver! If flowers were blooming, it was difficult to leave his house without a vase full of daffodils, magnolias, roses, or gardenias. There are many plants, flowers, and bushes growing in the yards of others thanks to his generosity.

Our father was a very good story teller! His father, “Mr. H____” as many knew him, owned a country store. There were some great tales birthed in that place! If you lived in his hometown, chances are he had a tale about you or your family members too.

One of our favorite tales was when our father figured out a way to rig a needle in such a way that it poked up between the boards on a bench where the farmers would sit. They frequented the country store to enjoy an ice cold Coke, a snack, and some juicy gossip. Just as they settled, our father would pull a string from around the corner and the needle would prick the old men in the bottom! Suddenly there would be shouts, probably some cursing and most definitely a lot of laughter! As you can imagine, the victims would sit around and wait for the next unsuspecting soul to sit in the hot seat. He tricked many ol’ country folks. He was quite mischievous!

A lot of history was lost when he breathed his last breath on earth. He had a way of remembering every detail — filling people with joy and delight as he spun his tales of days gone by.

Being raised during the depression had a lasting effect on his life. Until the day he died, our father recycled anything he could reuse (to the chagrin of our mother). We would find plastic bags, containers, bottles, foil, and more tucked away into tight places. Perhaps we could learn lessons from that generation and not be so wasteful.

Since our father spent most of the daylight hours outdoors, these things will always take us back to childhood memories: The sound of a tractor; Sounds of a chainsaw floating through the crisp autumn air; Sounds of a lawn mower buzzing on a Saturday morning; The smell of freshly plowed dirt.

Our father definitely left his mark on this world with his kindness, generosity, and laughter. We can only hope that we — his children, grandchildren, and great grandchildren can be as generous and kind.