My dad was one of a kind and throughout my 51 years I don't think I have ever met anyone quite like him.  He was there for me throughout everything important in my life, but more important he was there for me through the insignificant times in my life and I think that is where most of the memories come from.

He taught me unconditional love and what it meant.  He taught me period.  He taught me about business.  He taught me about people.  He taught me about relationships.  He taught me about what was acceptable behavior in people and what wasn't.  He taught me that family was the most important thing in the world and if you didn't stand by that principle he had no use for you.  He taught me to take carer of the elderly in your family and to stay in touch with all family members.  He taught me that friends can be part of your family.  He taught me loyalty.  He taught me morals.  He taught me to love someone for who they were and not for who you wanted them to be.  He taught me that life isn't fair but you have to continue on whether you want to or not.  He taught me that in the school of  hard knocks how to put a helmet on.  He taught me how to be resourceful.  And he taught me so much more and the beautiful thing about the way he taught me is that he taught me by example.

A lot of people thought he was a hard ass, and he could be.  A lot of people thought he was a smart ass, and he could be.  But he was the most compassiobnate  man I have ever known and a man that although sacrificed everything he had, never saw his family again and left his homeland so his three kids could grow up in a free country to be what they wanted and make their own choices.  That says a lot.  He was very close to his father and never saw him again.  I guess the biggest and most important thing he showed me was that to have integrity you often have to sacrifice things that are close to your heart but it comes second nature and you do it.  He also taught me that integrity is something you have or you don't have, you can't acquire it.

He taught me to trust people when they gave you a reason to.  He taught me that at cerrtain times in your life people that are the closest to you are going to be the ones that let you down most often, but to expect it and that you had to look past it.  He taught me forgiveness and he taught me that I did not have time in life nor should I go through the pain of learning all of life's lessons on my own, that sometimes you learn through other people.  He taught me that I was equal to everyone else and he taught me I could be anything I wanted to be.  I could to some extent control my own destiny.  He often used bible passages and stories from the bible to illustrate a point to me.

I remember when I was traveling so much on my job for about three years and I never went one night, no matter how late or early without calling him, how much it mean to him.  I have every email he sent me everyday and for no reason sometimes but to tell me a story he just read about regarding baseball.  He cut out clippings in magazines and newspapers he thought I would be interested in and always wrote a note on them and I have them all.  He taught me about life and the way he lived his life was a shining example of the ethics I hope to still acquire regardless of the challenges I have faced.

His birthday was yesterday and it was a hard day for me.  I have been struggling feeling very lonely without a family to call my own because my two sisters each have their kids and grandkids and are family units and I lost my baby at 22 weeks and never got a chance to get preganant again.  I am thankful he met Matt and approved and while I was traveling Matt went often and they spent time together and he was really happy we were getting married.  Four months before he had the massive stroke he walked me down the aisle and I will be forever grateful to God for that.

But I think my dad taught me the most after the stroke, after rehab, when he and my mom came to live with us for several years while me and Matt took care of him with his ever faithful "Guely" who was Mama.  I spent countless hours every night and on weekends with him.  After work I would get him in the wheelchair when he still could ride in it and take him on walks in Vestavia around the neighborhood.  His heart was still intact because I remember there was a man that attends our church that I see regularly that lived on the road behind us.  The man had a beautiful garden of roses and maintaned them impecably and had fish in a pond.  Daddy always spoke to the man as we did the circle on his cul de sac.  One day Daddy said to stop and he called the man over there.  I was scared of how the man was going to react because I didn't know him and he was so reserved.  Daddy pointed to the most beautiful rose in the garden and he could see it despite having lost his peripheral vision.  He asked the man if he could have the rose and didn't tell the man why.  The man was so gracious he cut it and put a paper towel around it and gave it to him and Daddy told me he wanted to go back home.  We could see the house but the brook seperated us so we had to go the long way.  The minute we walked in the door he yelled for Guely and when she came he handed her the rose.  That is one of the sweetest things I have ever seen and Mama just cried and hugged him.  We put the flower in a vase and took several pictures of it that Mama cherished.

After losing half his brain and being bedridden by the stroke which had always been his biggest fear he said of dying with a stroke, he knew he had one and we talked abou it.  He never complained about being the one to have it.  He never complained about what he suffered, he just told us when and where he hurt.  He needed to get up and Matt would get him up and every Saturday they would watch Cops together.  In the mornings he would have his chocolate milk and always spill some for the dog to have.  At night around 7 he would start telling us all to get our pajamas on because to him that meant no one would be leaving him and we were all in for the night so we often complied.  He still asked about business and he remembered people and stories.  He cried often about his good friends he missed and about his dad and he never knew his mother died.

He started outwardly expressing affection much more after his sickness.  He told me he loved me several times a day and as I am sure he told the other two, he always told me I was his favorite.  He often called me and if someone else went to the room he was very specific on whom he wantaed whether it was me or someone else.  He would call me and tell me "Vivian, love me" which meant to hug him the best way I could with him lying down and just hugging him tight and telling him how much I loved him and afterwards he would say thank you.

At the end he knew he was dying and the hospice people gave us a book and explained the process and said that most people in a situation like this go through about a two week period preparing themselves for the death and needing to say good bye to everyone.  The Tuesday before he died on Sunday that morning he was like his old self.  Unbelievable!  I treasure that day.  He was sitting up and talking normal and remembered everything.  He called Mama to the room and told her if he had ever done anything to upset her he was sorry.  He called Matt to the room and looked him dead in the eye and told him that he appreciated everything Matt had done for him throughout his illness and asked Matt to please promise him he would take care of me and Mama.  He called me to the room and asked me if I would promise him I would take care of Mama and make sure she had a banana everyday (who knows why?) but I assured him I would and boy did I buy bananas.  But he never told me bye like he did Matt and Mama.  I know he talked ot the others int he family and hospice told us that it was important for each of us to tell him it was okay to die.  I don't think I ever used the word die but I used the word "go and rest with God".  That is the hardest conversation I have ever had in my life and I tried so hard to be strong adn asked God not to let him see me cry to assure him I would be okay without him, but it didn't quite work out that way.  We talked about the fact that he was dying and I told him I knew it but I was so thankful for the six years God gave us with him after the stroke and I promised him to be the best I could be and I got a chance to tell him I could never have asked for a better father and that I was the luckiest person to have had him and I told him all he had taught me since he got sick about acceptance, perseverence, praying, speaking your thoughts and feelings, etc. and he told me "thank you Vivian for telling me these things".  That is the last conversation I had with him because he went into a coma a couple of days later.  The priest came and gave him his last rites while he was so awake that day and he thanked the priest and talked to him for a long time about dying.  He said he wasn't afraid and he told him he had done the best he could for his family while he could and although he felt it wasn't enough he tried.  He also said the most important thing in the world to him was family and the fact that we were all together.  I hate that things are the way they are within what is left of our family but I have reached out the best way I could to my sisters and nieces and nephews and I cannot control other's peoples views and actions toward me.  I can just offer forgiveness to them for not wanting me in their lives and knowing should they ever come back to me that I will always welcome them.

My dad was very intelligent and could quote you baseball trivia like nobody's business.  He loved history and was photographed I believe by every cannon in the country on a battlefield. But let me end by telling you that I know he is with God and his death was a Godwink because he was tired and he needed to be in his eterneal home with God and how I know for sure he is there.  He had a strong fettish for Stonewall Jackson.  Not too long before he died (within the year of his stroke) he and Mama were in the car traveling nowhere which is how he liked to travel and stopping a the battlefields. Mama said he stopped in the middle of no where and they got out to walk and walk and he looked and looked and then he got happy and said here it is and when she walked over there he had gone and done all the legwork to find where Stonewall Jackson's arm was buried and he found it and took pictures.  He showed them off and was so proud.  The day after he died when Mama picked his plot out at Southern Heritage we went back to the office to do the paperwork and when they were naming the plot Matt (the nicest guy that was the funeral director) mentioned and he will be buried in "Stonewall Jackson, plot..." and Mama screamed.  Everyone got still but I knew the reason.  Mama said that she knew then that Daddy was with God and she had picked out the right burial spot for him.