Happy Birthday Daddy...

Virgil Doyle Davis (yes, his initials were V.D.D. and we monogrammed anything we could find!) was our father... there are so many funny stories, many of which I cannot post on this blog due to interesting content, but they are just not the same if he is not the story teller anyway. I can still hear his voice.. see him standing on the front porch of the Hillcrest house waiting on me to get home before curfew.. remember him working in the yard for hours just to be outside...

I remember waiting at the front window from him to come home from a week long sales trip. I remember him telling stories about 'Jojo the Indian' to his grandchildren with such conviction, I had to remind myself that it was his creation.

I remember his Sunday morning biscuits, shaped especially for each of us, and gravy. I remember Daddy singing "Sunday Morning Coming Down" to me on Saturday nights... I remember so fondly, his story about a 'heart museum' after we lost Sarah and it still makes me wonder how he knew about a heart museum and how it would heal.

I remember him telling me once that I could 'turn around, the car is running outside the double doors'.. and I should have listened.

I remember Grandma Davis sharing the story of when he borrowed(?) the school bus to take his first girlfriend on a date. I remember when I wrecked his new Lincoln Towncar on my 17th birthday, he patted me on the back and said, "Accidents happen. Your friends will be here in a minute, you should go get ready. I'll park the car." Nothing else was ever said.. ever asked... ever mentioned.. it was an accident and everyone has accidents...

I remember how he never used his hospice bed, but he did let Utah, Hannah, and Tuesday play on it till their heart's were content. I remember him wrestling with Utah and standing on the back porch under an umbrella with Hannah - both loving to be outside so much that they even wanted to be outside in the rain.

I remember the phone call that he didn't have much longer and me rushing to him and he wasn't home.. a few minutes later he walked through the door and said, "Catherine! If I had known you were coming I would have gotten you some bar-b-que, too!" I just sat their stunned... and pleased that he still experienced such joy...

I remember him asking me to say something at his funeral because he knew it would help me cope.

I remember, Daddy.