Friday, August 24, 2018

On to the Important Stuff - He Keeps Me Singing

My daddy died.

In February.

The blessing of that is that he is no longer living with Alzheimer's. He was in his 10th year and was becoming more and more miserable. More and more living without his beloved mind and spirit.

I'm so grateful for his life.

Daddy and my older sister, Frances

He wasn't perfect.

He was good.

So good.


He loved God. his family, music, and engineering. Some days in different orders.

He loved to sing. More than I, or anyone, can imagine.


My father's side of the family were engineer types and musicians.

My grandmother, daddy, and his sister Fayre

He was both.

He came by his love for music honestly,

He had no formal training.

That did not inhibit him at all.

In his younger days he sang in every choir that would have him - especially at church.



He sang solos. He sang in quartets.

He sang in duets. He sang in Trios.

He played handbells. He taught kids to play handbells.

He played solo handbells (which in case you don't know is SOOOOO stinking hard).

In my grown up years he sang in a community choral.

He loved this. The choral sang the fancy stuff.

Bach, Handel, Beethoven.

All the stuff that was rare in his church choir.

The day he had to stop singing in Choral was a pretty big deal.

It meant things were bad. His mind and body were failing him.

Not my sister - my neice Jayelle.

The last few years of his life he went to church with my sister Stephanie. They sang hymns side by side.

I don't know which of them enjoyed it more.


I channel him sometimes.

When I hear a choir anthem that I particularly like, no matter what I'm doing, I lean forward, come up on my toes, then typically rock backward as the music comes through my soul.

My chin lifts up and my neck strains and tilts my head to one side.

My shoulders raise, my arms bend at the elbows, and those elbows lift slightly from my sides.

If I am not careful, my hands begin to bounce and wave as if I am directing a choir or conducting an orchestra.

At this point - which always catches me by surprise - I think HOLY COW I've become my father!

What a legacy.

Please click here and take a moment to celebrate my daddy.








4 comments:

Joy@aVintageGreen said...

Good memories.
Hugs.
Joy

Anonymous said...

Wonderful memories of your precious Daddy; my father (after having several mini strokes the past 6 years) had a large'continual' stroke the doctors called it, 1st happening on March 10th, they thought he was having mild stroke and had done very well so they released him home Wed March 14th, his 90th birthday and he started having stroke symptoms within hours of his release that afternoon and back to hospital where this time the 3rd MRI showed the bleed at the back of his brain. And they said the 'final' part of the same stroke hit him a 3rd time May 2nd, while he was living at that rehab center, and that evening he almost passed away in the ICU, but survived. By end of May it was decided that he had to consider hospice and he choose home hospice. He is failing more each day, in more pain (as on top of all that, he also was diagnosed with leukemia in August 2017 and he only had one series of 'infusions' in Oct 2017 as he was scheduled for March 16th for the 2nd infusions and his doctors canceled it due to the stroke. So my father is fading from us, day by day. I am going next week to spend another week with him and my mother (who is 84 and his primary care giver! - we wanted him to go into hospice facility but he said no. So I rejoice in your memories of your Daddy... and I dread saying good bye to my Daddy.
Dawn P.

Susie said...

Karen, Your description of your father was wonderful. I loved seeing the pictures of his life. Music was important to him. Hugs to you honey. No matter how old we become or how long they are gone...that longing for one more hug and I love you, never leaves. Blessings, xoxo, Susie

Laura @ duke manor farm said...

Karen, what a beautiful post and tribute to you dad. His music, talents and memory will live with you forever.

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