The Lord is nigh unto them that are of a broken heart; and saveth such as be of a contrite spirit. – Psalm 34:18 (KJV)
It’s never easy to say goodbye to a parent. Last year my dad was diagnosed with lung cancer. We fought the VA to get treatments. After urging him to see care elsewhere, he began receiving treatments. A few months ago, he was released as being “cancer free.” The cancer was in-check and the oncologist told him that they would continue to do checkups, but he had another 10 years.
A few months ago he went to the doctor and was diagnosed with pneumonia. He was there a few days before going home. He returned via ambulance a week later to be admitted to ICU. On September 25, 2022, he earned his heavenly wings.
My dad instilled in me a love of southern gospel music. With a big, booming voice, he often sang bass and was known for his smooth, low notes. He adopted “Just a Little Talk with Jesus” as his signature song and anytime a group was gathered around a piano, that’s what he’d sing.
My mom insisted that I learn piano. I didn’t much care for the classical pieces or pop medleys. I did, however, like the Sacred Hymns music book my teacher suggested. One hymn, “Hide Me Rock of Ages” was one that I remember vaguely. Every time I would practice that piece, he always seemed to appear over my shoulder singing the bass part.
My parents were founding members of the southern gospel quartet, Heavenly Host. They often traveled the tri-state area singing and ministering to others. Between the group’s travel schedule and my softball schedule, we were hardly home!
He was an avid hunter. He grew up hunting deer and squirrels. He was stationed at Ft. Polk, LA during basic training before being shipped out to serve in the Vietnam War. One of my favorite stories he told was when he was reprimanded for squirrel hunting on the base. If you knew my dad, you knew this sounded exactly like him!
After he returned home from the war, he and my mom married. They were together for 52 years. He worked for the local papermill for over 47 years, as well as serving as a deputy for the local sheriff’s department. He served as the union president for the local chapter of the paper mill, where he worked as a maintenance mechanic. Additionally, he volunteered for his neighborhood watch.
He also liked to “run dogs,” aka fox hunting. He was a member of the Southeast Arkansas Foxhunter’s Association. He loved dogs. He bred and raised American Foxhounds, often showing them and challenging them in local field trials.
He spent most of his extra time tending to his garden, which he painstakingly toiled every spring through the fall. He insisted on having enough purple hull peas to last him until the following season. In fact, the first thing he asked my husband when we came home for Thanksgiving was if he liked purple hull peas. It became a running joke, just like the red sports coat he wore every Christmas.
He loved his family and he loved being around kids. He should. After all, he was a big kid himself! He was known for his practical jokes and strong resolve. I know he will be missed by many.
