Images of My Father

There was an argument going on between my Mother and Father that frightened me.  I had no way of knowing what it was all about—I was only three or four years old.  But I do remember climbing into my Daddy’s lap and burying my face.

My next recollection is of going to the barn with my tin cup for milk straight from the cow as Dad milked her.  It was foamy and delicious!

He took me with him in the back seat of our car while he and a friend laughed and joked in the front seat.  Whether it was about me or something else, I don’t know!

He took me to the train yard, and lifted me into the cock pit of the giant engine.  I smiled and waved to him and pulled the train horn.  He took me with him to meet with engineer and firemen friends at a local bar, sat me on the counter with a bag next to me, and they filled it with candy.  Was I spoiled?

Fast forward to marriage and family.  My folks came with three bikes and a red wagon for the youngest grandchild.   What fun they had over the years with those gifts!

Later came my gift from Dad.  In the sixties, I began teaching piano again.  On a visit, we went to the Music Shop in Murfreesboro and Dad bought me a grand piano!  My husband had a room built onto our home to house it!

My next image is one of sadness.  Dad was sitting on a chair next to the kitchen.  As my daughter Linda walked through; he caught her hand and held it.  Sweet memory.

A message from my cousin urged us to come quickly.  Dad was in the hospital, not doing well.  I arrived there with the recent picture of all four children in their Christmas finery.  He smiled from his gurney, I kissed him “Good night” which turned out to be “Good bye.”  He died later that night.

I still miss him.

by Rita Hood
June 2021