ForeverMissed
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Herbie

July 21, 2019

I have fond memories of the little red Datsun truck daddy drove. Evan and I have been looking for a used truck to buy--for all the reasons trucks are good to have. Driving to a friend's house for lunch, I saw a red truck that looked like exactly what we wanted. I felt a little surge of joyful energy and said, out loud, "Thank you, daddy."  On the way home I stopped to call Evan and tell him about the truck.I used FaceTime to show it to him. It was, indeed, exactly what we wanted. It had a manual transmission, but...oh well, I could learn to drive it (she says, hopefully.)   Fast forward. We bought the truck. Now it was time to name it. I liked the idea of naming it after my dad, but in a playful way. He didn't like being called Herbie, but good friends were allowed to do so...specifically our next door neighbor, Dave Arnett.  

I was driving to a local antique store/barn to look for a table for our new catio (screened-in patio for cats) and thinking about our truck and its name. I said, "Daddy, if it's okay to name our truck Herbie, please send me a sign."  I wandered around at the antiques barn and found a wonderful wrought iron table for the catio. I decided to make one more loop around the place and walked outside, around the back of the building. As I was doing so, a man was unloading a table and chairs from the back of his truck. The table and chairs had a hummingbird motif. My eyes misted over. The hummingbird is the sign daddy sent right after he died, when I was feeling the deep sadness of separation and loss...hoping he was somewhere but knowing he was no longer here with us. Good sign, daddy. Great sign. The hummingbird table and chairs look great on our lower deck. My first stick shift driving lesson went well. I'm confident that I'll get the hang of it because I have the best co-pilot, ever. Thank you, daddy. 

May 13, 2013

I hope Grandpa brought his fishing rod,

His hat, some bait to lure a cod.

For Heaven without fishing

Would leave Grandpa wishing

That he’d been sent to somewhere else.

 

God, if you don’t mind

Sending him back would be just fine.

I promise this time 

I’ll listen closely to his stories

Perhaps write down his memories.

I swear I’ll go fishing with him,

Because, with Grandpa, I’ve never been.

 

Grandpa, if you’d let me

I’d cry you an ocean, wait and see

And all my memories

Could be the fish.

So whenever you wish

Throw a line out to sea

And you’ll catch reminders of you and me.


By: Juliana Judge 

Comfort

May 7, 2013

Jesus has removed the sting of death (Cor. 15:55).Now we too have victory by believing in the Son of God's death and resurrection for us. Through Jesus'
perfect work, we can beat death---for good! 

We owed a debt we  couldn't pay;
Jesus paid a debt He didn't owe.

Rest in peace, Herb, rest in peace.. 

Love, Louise 

Fish Fry In Heaven

May 6, 2013

Herb loved to fish.(best of all he could cook them) Often he volunteered  to cook for special charity events at the American Legion. Many of his fishing friends have proceeded him to the best fishing spot of all.Could there be a big fish fry where all good fishermen go? You betcha!

Give Us a Sign

May 5, 2013

Very shortly after dad passed away, I sat in the garden at the hospice house, letting the tears fall. I thought, “Daddy, it’s probably not easy to show me a sign that your spirit is free now, but if you can…”    A voice in my head said, “What would you like?”  “How about a hummingbird?” I responded.

There were feeders filled with nectar hung in several places around the hospice house, but I hadn’t seen a hummingbird during the three days I was there. I composed myself the best I could to call my brother, Jimmy. As the phone rang, I turned toward the garden and a hummingbird zoomed in—paused for a second at a bottlebrush bush in front of me, then zipped off toward the blue sky.

Yeah, yeah, yeah

May 5, 2013

Daddy said, “There are only two kinds of music: Country and western.”  He never cared for rock ‘n’ roll, and described it as, “Yeah, yeah, yeah, bam, bam, bam.”  Daddy had a great singing voice. I have wonderful memories of him singing or whistling happily as he worked in the garden or the garage. Daddy, I will always carry your songs in my heart.

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