I have always been a "Daddy's Girl." Everywhere my dad went, I followed. I grew up working on the cars with him and he nicknamed me "Wrecker," because I could push and pull better than any of the men he knew did. I guess I just wanted to be number one in my daddy's eyes.
I could talk to my dad about anything. If he did not agree, he would tell me but he never tried to tell me what I should do. He was very good with his suggestions. He understood my gift of knowing things before they happened and would ask me how I knew things. He would also tell me that my Uncle was the same way as he recounted times my Uncle would give a warning a few moments before the event occurred.
My dad was very lonely his last few years on this earth. My mom died a few years before my dad and he ached for her everyday of his life. He would share with me how he would go for a ride in his truck everyday. The ride consisted of getting a coffee and driving out to the cemetery where mom lay, resting. He would sit there and talk to her for hours.
I envied the love that my parents had. I knew how sad my dad was and how his heart ached after mom passed away from her bout with Cancer. I have always considered myself "spoiled" with the parents I had. I thought they were perfect.
The day came; when dad shared with that, he was going to go over to Honduras. I knew dad liked the way they lived there. He had told me it reminded him of how he grew up back in the days of the Great Depression. When dad told me about his trip, I was happy that he was going to busy himself with something he liked. Dad never was a person of travel and liked staying home. He was excited about his upcoming trip.
The days were getting closer. Dad would soon be taking off for his trip and he told me he was not sure, when he would come back. As the day grew near, there was a fear that started over sweeping me. It would come to mind as I fell asleep and it was getting harder and harder to fall asleep. I called my youngest son and spoke to him about it. It was during that conversation, that he expressed his fear of Grandpa not coming back. His fear was not that his grandpa would be living in Honduras, but of him never to return.
I made the trip to Ohio, to spend a day with my dad before he left. We talked a little about everything. He talked a lot about mom and what she had always meant to him and that he was never unfaithful. At that time, I actually asked my dad if he really had to go to Honduras and he just smiled at me. It was with that smile, that I said, "Dad, you know you won't ever be coming back." As I look back, the expression on his face, told me he actually knew it himself. He then asked me, "How do you always know these things? Your Uncle was the same way. He told me once, that I had better watch out for the school bus and get way over and I did. Around the next curve was a school bus on my side of the rode. How do you know these things?" I told dad, "I just know what I know dad, but I can not explain how I know."
I had enjoyed the day with my dad and darkness would soon be closing in. I told dad that I needed to start towards home because it would be dark soon and I had a couple hours drive ahead of me. He acknowledged my good-bye and I said, "Dad, I love you and I know you won't be back. I wish you would not go but I know you." I kissed my dad good-bye and started my trip back to West Virginia. That night I called both of my boys and asked them to go see their grandpa. I was hoping they could change his mind about leaving.
I worked over the next few days. My final day came and I would be off for the weekend. I was looking so forward to clocking out and going home. When I got home, Gene was on his computer as usual. I went in to let him know I was home and he said, "Zach called and wanted you to give him a call when you got home." I nodded in agreement and went to get the phone. It was late and almost midnight. I hated calling anyone this late. I was wondering why he wanted me to call at such an hour.
I was smiling as I called. When Zach answered, I said, "Hey. What's up?" His voice was so soft and broken on the other end of the line. It was then that he said, "Mom. Grandpa is dead. He was killed in an accident earlier today."
I felt like I could not breathe. I did not dare let my son hear me cry. Parents are suppose to be the strong person and able to bear anything. I replied, "Honey, I know you're sad, but know in your heart that Grandpa is now with Grandma and is happier than he has been in a long time." He agreed but I could hear the soft sobs in the background. I asked if his brother knew and asked for more details.
Details were all sketchy and no one seemed to know anything. All I could find out was that dad had been killed. He was a passenger in a car that was hit by a semi. He had not been in country for 24 hours yet. I spent the next few days crying and asking why. I also told my self, "Be happy. He is now with mom." I felt like a part of me was missing. I was always daddy's girl and now my daddy was gone. I would never get to go fishing with him. I would never be able to joke with him during a Cleveland and Cincinnati football game. Dad always rooted for The Bengal's'. I felt like I had no one. No one was ever there for me like my dad was. It was during those thoughts and mumblings, I felt someone touch my hair. I did not feel alone. I turned around, but no one was there. I smiled. I knew my dad just told me he was okay and I would never feel or be alone again.