As a kid you think everyone you love is invincible. Especially your parents. As a little girl, my daddy was the tallest, biggest daddy in the whole wide world. And there was nothing you could say to convince me otherwise. He was my hero. Never once did I think I would ever have to live without him.
I was a daddy’s girl to the nth degree. Besides my older brother, he was my first interaction with a male. He set the standard. He made me feel like a princess, even while he was showing me how to bait a hook with a worm. Even while he was showing me how to clean a gun. Even (when I was a teenager) when he showed me how to fire that gun. “Evvy,” he’d say, “always treat a gun like it’s loaded.” My reply was always, “Okay, Daddy!”
“Here, Evvy,” he’d say, demonstrating how to unhook the tiny bluegill I had caught, “squeeze it’s gills to open its mouth real wide, then just take out the hook.” I’m reaching for it excitedly because I loved learning new things from my daddy, and I wanted to show him that I could do it. “Okay, Daddy!” He was always good about telling me how proud he was with just a big smile or a giant kiss on the forehead.
The last conversation I had with him, he was telling me as I was leaving the hospital to tell everybody he said hi. “Tell the Lescaults, and your mama, and…” he was just naming people until finally he said, “Just tell everybody I said hi.” Then that beautiful grin. And my faithful reply, “Okay, Daddy,” I laughed. “I love you, see you tomorrow.”
“Love you, Evvy.”
Those were the last words I heard my daddy say to me. I wish I had saved all of his voicemails so I could hear him one last time. Every time. He wasn’t supposed to leave yet. When I got the call to come to the hospital and bring the family, I operated on autopilot, making sure everyone made it to the hospital.
Though he couldn’t hear me, I said my final goodbye to my daddy on June 4, 2018, with a giant kiss on his forehead just before he took his final breath. Only 62 days before my mom passed.
Be gentle with your parents. Even when they repeat the same story over and over. Even when they check on you, ask you all kinds of questions and get on your nerves. If you have been lucky enough to have your parents into their 70s, 80s, or even 90s, count yourselves blessed. They do not live forever.
That One Day When... 