Happy Birthday, Daddy
Today would have been my daddy’s 95th birthday. I was and always will be a daddy’s girl. I adored him, and he giggled at me.
Do you ever wonder what makes people the way they are?
Ronald recounts the story of my dad working on remodeling our basement. Daddy had slammed a hammer against his thumb really hard and all he said was, “How ’bout that?” To us, his self-control was above admirable.
As he struggled with pain at the end of his short life, he obviously didn’t feel well but he wasn’t a griper. Even though it was through medical ignorance he was going to die prematurely, he didn’t cuss out the doctors. Lord knows, I did enough of that for both of us!
Was Daddy as strong and brave as I deemed him? Probably not, but he had a background that would be an example to the weak-spirited of today.
First, as the youngest of six kids, Daddy had to be tough to survive. I always remember him being the quietest of the bunch and still wonder why he was so shy. I don’t believe he was the typical youngest child, and I know it wasn’t because he was bullied or anything. The Sheek clan loved and supported each other. Maybe it was his personality type – the nature vs. nurture thing.
Second, he was born in West Texas. I don’t know about a lot of things because we moved from there when I was five, but I have an inkling that life was a rough and tumble existence – for my family anyway. The pictures of my parents’ childhood show dry land cotton farmers, living in sandy fields in small houses that needed a serious paint job, and not a blade of grass or tree to be seen. In my family, men went to find work when and where they could while their wives ran the home front as best they could.
Expectations of bravery and patriotism ran high as most all the men on both sides of the family served in WWII. Sadly, I was too self-absorbed and missed the opportunity while they were alive to learn the stories behind their service. As an MP in the Marines, Daddy probably carried many of the cultural characteristics of that branch of service into his everyday mindset and behaviors – clear down to his shiny shoes! And of course, there was the classic ‘John Wayne’ role model that set an example of strength under pressure.
When I was six, Daddy was burned in an industrial fire. For six months, he was in the hospital. Each day, they wrapped his burns then soaked them off in salt water, stripped off the bandages and another layer of skin, slathered him down with stuff, rewrapped, and did it again. He bore the pain and lived to enjoy many years of life. So, yeah, smashing the whey out of his thumb was nothing!
Most importantly, Daddy loved God. Because he worked shift work most of his life, he couldn’t go to church as often as he would have liked. He would sit in his big recliner in the living room and read his Bible. Sometimes, I would watch him. You could always tell when Daddy was thinking about something serious. He’d tilt his head just a bit, his brow would furrow, and his eyes would squint. He not only read the Word, he thought about it and lived it. It makes me very happy to know I will be spending eternity with him.
When things are going rough, I remember his gentle advice. “Everything’s gonna turn out all right, Kar’Bethy.”
Today I honor my daddy and thank God for giving me the opportunity to have such a loving father.
Blessings
KB
