April 7, 2008

8 years

I remember the smell of Kent no filters, paint and sawdust as I lept into his arms precisely at 5:30 p.m. every working day. His chuckle and then a gruff, "get offa me so I can get into the house." The newspaper had to be still in the green rubberband, never read. Dinner was ready as would hear him call "Mary, Mary" to greet her. My brothers and sister would scamper around his feet, we all as eager as puppies - well, unless we had transgressed so bad that day that the dreaded "wait until your father gets home" clause was envoked.

It's been eight years today - and each day I miss him still. The silly things, the funny things, even the gruff voice when he was angry. He would be so proud of how this family turned out. He really would.


  1. Char...I love you. I feel this so completely. It will be 19 years for me this may and it's still as raw as the day it happened.

  2. It sucks, doesn't it when anniversaries like this come along?


i feel as if each comment was between us as we sat and sipped something warm....i love to hear what you're thinking.