A Tribute to My Daddy and His Legacy

When I wrote my last post a week ago, I had no idea I was about to lose my father. He appeared to be getting better, had begun pulling out from his post operative delirium and had begun talking again. He'd even begun telling others that he wanted my mother moved to his hospital room "to talk business."

Well, my Daddy's business now is spending time with Jesus and all the loved ones that beat him to heaven...

I wanted to write this post to share just a bit about my Dad and what he meant to me.

A dear friend said it so well in a text to me today... "He was a smart, loving, funny, warm and generous man. Oh and good looking!" 

Anyone who knew him would have used the same words to describe him. Even the hospital staff adored him. They called him "Mr. Carl", and in a Baltimore accent, it sounded more like "Mr. Cawl."

We all loved him.

But God loved him more. So He decided to take him Home.

I'm so grateful for the 45 years I had with my Dad. I'm so grateful for all the memories. The times as a little girl when I'd literally lay across my Daddy and watch "The Jeffersons" or "Sanford and Son" with him. The times that he'd have me tweeze those stubborn hairs out of his neck. When he'd drop me off every morning to my middle school. When he taught me to drive. When I worked at his gas station during my summer break from college. When he walked me down the aisle at my wedding.

The memories are precious. They are many. Too many to write here. But they are so sweet. They are of a very kind man. One who supported me until the end. Even laying in his hospital bed he talked of helping us "get that boy in college" -- my son Kalin. He'd cried the last time he said it. I think he knew he wouldn't make it that long...

I'm also grateful for the recent memories. Spending hours and hours with him beside my mother when she was in ICU. Hearing him tell everyone -- and I mean everyone -- at the hospital that he was 80-years-old. Loving the reaction they'd have -- that he didn't look nearly 80. 

I'm grateful that I could be there beside him when he was rushed to the hospital. To see him in the recovery room after surgery. To hold his hand. Kiss his forehead. Tell him I love him. I'm grateful for that opportunity.

When he passed away last Tuesday, I had returned to Arkansas. I missed his last moments alive. For that I'm sad.

But I'm so happy that my sisters Lori and Sherri were there for him. And I'm so glad God gave me four weeks with him right before he went home.

I'm sure of many things right now. I'll miss my Daddy like crazy, and life won't be the same without him. My Daddy left a beautiful legacy of love for God, his wife, his family and his community. His life encourages me and everyone else who knew him to love well.

And I know that in spite of all of life's hurts and difficulties -- God is good.

All the time.

And all the time...

God is good.