Showing posts with label Sentimental Sunday. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Sentimental Sunday. Show all posts

Sunday, September 7, 2014

Sentimental Sunday - Happy Birthday Daddy!

Daddy, today, if you were still living, you would have been 86. In the 3 years, 5 months, and 12 days since your journey here on earth ended, life has continued. There have been good days and bad days and a lot that were in between the two.

Sometimes it feels like your death happened yesterday and at other times it feels like it's been years.

There are still special times of the year, like your birthday, where  days and weeks before, the tears start flowing again. I often don't realize why I'm so emotional until I look at the calendar and realize what time of the year it is. And then there are the times that for no reason at all you just pop into my head and I'm missing all the special times.

So on this day I just want to say HAPPY BIRTHDAY DADDY! You are still loved and missed so very much.







Sunday, April 1, 2012

Sentimental Sunday




This coming Wednesday will mark the one year anniversary of your going home, the day I said my final good byes. And while I carry on, things just haven' been quite the same. Not that I don't continue to cry but as the days that marked the anniversary of your death and going home services rapidly approached, I found myself shedding many a tear, again.

There's so much I miss - our arguments, our discussions, WSSU football games, going to church together, listening to the Sunday School lessons for the following week on "The Light 106.9" out of Black Mountain, and I especially miss the time you stayed with me before going into assisted living.

I also think about the things we never accomplished like visiting The Billy Graham Library. We'll we did actually go. It was just too close to closing to go on a tour of the place and some how we never went back.

I'm often saddened when I think that your legacy, your branch of the tree, ends with me. I once heard that our descendants are our true legacy, and as I age, I truly believe that is the case. And crazy as it seems, I find myself still explaining to you why the search for the ancestors is so important to me.

Like I told you last year as you were taking your final breaths, you'll always be with me and you are.


I love you daddy and miss you.

Monday, October 24, 2011

Sentimental Sunday - Last Game

Growing up, believe it or not I was the football expert. Dad was always asking me the players names on the various NFL teams. Back then, I usually could rattle them off without batting an eye. Dad was always impressed and would comment that if I knew my studies as well as I knew football, I would be getting somewhere.


However, it was different football remembrances that came to mind when I recently came across tickets from Dad's and my last game together.




For as long as I can remember, one of dad's and my special times was traveling back to the ancestral hometown to attend games at his undergrad Alma Mater, Winston-Salem State (WSSU). From junior high on, probably even prior, I remember going to the games with dad.


Our favorite spot was always by the band. For those of us who grew up in the atmosphere and history of Historically Black Colleges and Universities (HBCUs), the game was always a distraction until the real game begin at half time, between the two bands. Daddy, who had been a band director prior to integration, always commented on what he thought the bands were doing right and wrong.


For about 8 years, dad and I missed out on this special time. I decided to move out of state for awhile, almost to the other side of the country, and only saw the folks twice a year. So, for 8 years there were no games, no homecoming parades, no half-time shows.


I moved back home to NC in 1998 and dad and I slowly picked up where we had left off. By this time, dad seemed to be more interested in attending games at his Grad School Alma Mater, North Carolina A&T. I personally, still preferred going to games at WSSU.


As dad's health begin to fail, and he didn't like traveling as much, we begin to attend the games of our  local HBCU, Johnson C. Smith (JCSU).


Last years game in Charlotte between dad's undergrad Alma Mater, Winston-Salem State, and the local school Johnson C. Smith would be our last game together. Since this tends to be a big game, the game was held at Memorial Stadium instead of Johnson C. Smith's on-campus stadium.


Unable to find parking near the stadium, I ended up parking a bit away from the stadium. I had asked dad if he wanted me to drop him off while I found parking but he said no that he could make the trek back to the stadium. So, slowly we ventured back down the street toward the stadium, stopping ever so often so that dad could take a break.


We entered the stadium on the home team's side. Daddy would have been fine right there but since we were there to represent WSSU, I insisted that we go to the visitor's side. On the way to the visitor's side of the stadium, we ran into my younger cousin Reggie, who had come down from Winston-Salem with his dad. Since we had no clue they were going to be there, this was a special treat for dad, who always loved being around his nephews and nieces.


During the game, daddy was a little more subdued than usual. I kept asking if he was okay and he kept saying yes.


WSSU won the game and as far as I'm concerned the game within the game (halftime show). We bid the cousins farewell and wished them a safe trip back to Winston-Salem. As we begin the trek back to the car, daddy realized he just couldn't make the trek back no matter how many times we stopped, so he asked if I could go get the car while he waited. So, I left him with a nice police officer while I went to get the car.


Daddy was silent more than usual for the short trip back home. He thanked me like he always did as I dropped him off at the assisted living facility. 


Unfortunately, that was the only game we attended last year. From Sept - Dec 2010, dad had doctor's appointments practically every week, so I worked practically every weekend for the remainder of the football season and year so that I could have time off during the week to take dad to appointments. My coworkers loved me for taking all the weekends.


I always thought there would be more games and was so looking forward to attending some games with dad this year but it wasn't meant to be.


And so, I'll treasure these tickets that I hadn't even realized I had kept and include them in that yet to be started scrapbook that I keep hoping to make. And even though the journeys won't be the same without dad, I still plan on attending a couple of those WSSU games each year, because even though I didn't attend the "family" alma mater, deep inside I'm a ram at heart.


Ram logo obtained from the Winston-Salem State University website.



Sunday, April 24, 2011

Sentimental Sunday: Hallelujah Chorus - Not Just for Christmas

Getting ready for Easter Service this morning, I suddenly started singing The Hallelujah Chorus, and as I did my mind drifted to the memories of Daddy and Aunt Martha singing this along with the other members of the choir at Waddell Chapel.

Wouldn't you know that the Hallelujah Chorus was the closing song for today's Easter service, where I attend church. To all the ancestors watching over me, thanks, I needed that.





Sunday, April 10, 2011

Sentimental Sunday - Remembering Daddy

(Always with me)

Daddy always told mom that she would out live him. It was the one thing he never wavered on no matter how much we tried to tell him that God hadn’t revealed that to us. But, turns out daddy was right. On Saturday, March 26, 2011, the Lord called daddy home.

Dad’s body had been waging a war for years, first the diabetes, then the heart disease and high blood pressure, and finally the kidney damage that resulted from the high blood pressure. I keep thinking anybody else, the battle would have been lost years ago. But daddy was like a prize fighter and kept battling. But this year was an especially tough year for dad. Eventually, his kidneys couldn’t take any more and begin shutting down.

I suppose we could have extended his life through dialysis but daddy was adamant about not going on dialysis and wanted no heroic measures taken to prolong his life. Besides, due to all his other health issues, especially his heart, daddy wasn’t a candidate for dialysis anyway.

Monday, April 4, 2011, was daddy’s going home service. The following is something I wrote and read at the service. I initially was going to have one of my cousins read it for me, because I didn’t think I could get through it. Thankfully, she declined to read it, and told me that I had to be the one to read it.


In my life, there have been two men that were larger than life to me. One of those two men was my maternal grandfather, LC Hosch, who was called home in 1978. The other, of course, was my father.

As it became evident that the Lord was calling dad on home, I reflected on our time together during these past 50 years.

Like practically every little girl from my era growing up in the South, I learned to drive almost as soon as I could walk. Sitting on dad’s lap, barely able to peer over the steering wheel, daddy pressed the gas pedal and brakes while I did the steering or so I thought.

I use to always want a brother or sister but truth is I already had one even though he was dad, too. Like any big brother, dad use to pick at me something fierce. One episode that I recall was when I was trying to get some reading done. When I was young, I loved to read. So, I was trying to read and dad kept flicking the lights on and off. And like any little sister would do, I yelled for mom to make daddy stop.

Daddy could be the ultimate funny man, too. One morning when I was in sixth grade, as mom was preparing breakfast and I was getting ready for school, daddy suddenly started talking about the next thing you know Mavis will have some ‘ole’ guy up in here. As he walked through our living room toward the kitchen mom and I heard “How do you do sir?” I’m thinking who is he talking to when he says “She’ll be right out.” Daddy was practicing for me dating.

Daddy didn’t have a lot of hobbies but whenever he developed a new interest the whole family had to take on this new hobby whether it be chess, ham radio, or whatever. When I say whole family, I’m not just talking about me and mom but his brothers, sisters, nephews, and nieces, too. To this day, I can still hear the sounds of Morse Code in my head.

Both of my parents taught me to dream big especially dad. As such, I got to experience places and things that most children from my generation didn’t such as trips to the Bahamas and Europe. And no offense to my friends and family who are nurses, but when I thought about being a Nurse, daddy told me that Nurses were a dime a dozen, find something else to do. He never knew how much that mandate truly helped as I learned I really can’t handle the sight of other people’s blood even though daddy’s main reason for telling me that was because Nurses didn’t make enough money.

In the final months of his life, I think dad knew that his life was drawing to a close even if we didn’t always pick up on all the signs. Although dad had many health issues and crises during the years, these last few months were different. In hindsight, I can now see clearly what I only suspected at the time was occurring. Over those last few weeks, daddy reminded me of the importance of church and God, and told me to stay in church, something he had never done before. It was like he was seeing my life too and knew that there were times like many of us that I sometimes struggled in this area of my life and knew that I would need both God and the Church to endure the pain of losing him. He told both mom and me how much he loved us, also telling both me and his caretakers how mom had really stuck by him.

Like any child, especially an only child, I would have loved more time with my dad. Through all of dad’s crises, I use to always tell God that I wasn’t ready to let go just yet because I still needed my daddy. But in those final days and hours of dad’s life, I did one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to do which was release daddy back to the one who had given him to me as my father. Even though he was no longer able to respond, I let daddy know that mom and I would be okay and that he would always be with us.


Sunday, October 24, 2010

Sentimental Sunday - Celebrating another Milestone


Happy Birthday Cuz!




I had intended to post this picture of my cousin Valerie and I yesterday for her birthday, but yesterday was one of those crazy sort of days. Well, as always, better late than never. Separated by 2 months and 10 days (I'm the younger), we'll both be celebrating that milestone birthday that begins with a 5 and ends with a 0. Seems like just yesterday we were kids.

The above picture is part of the personal collection of the owner of this blog.


Sunday, September 19, 2010

Sentimental Sunday - Singing Grace

I could be wrong but the paternal side of my family is the only one that I know of that actually sung grace. And during any family singing, of course the two voices that always could be heard above all others was my dad's and Aunt Martha's.

If you are wondering what we sang, here it is:



God is great and God is good,
And we thank him for our food;
By his hand we must be fed,
Give us Lord, our daily bread
Amen
 
So, how did your family say grace?

Sunday, January 24, 2010

Sentimental Sunday - Reel-to-Reel Tape Recordings


Picture obtained from devicepedia.com

In today’s digital world the reel to reel tape recorder is considered an antiquated piece of technology. But back in the day, that was the way we Joneses kept in touch. More specifically, tape recordings were the way daddy and Aunt Martha stayed in contact with their brother, Uncle Claudius, who lived in Florida.


When I think about all the recordings going back and forth between North Carolina and Florida, the thought of them brings a smile to my face and warms my heart. It always felt like we were right there with Uncle Claudius and my cousins. However, as a shy and sometimes withdrawn child, those reel to reel recordings were pure torture for me, also. Daddy and Aunt Martha always had me talking on them. I can still hear it today, “Come talk to your Uncle.” I never said much, usually only saying “Hi Uncle Claudius. This is Mavis.” Of course daddy and Aunt Martha were always standing there telling me to tell him about this or that (my good grades, playing the piano, whatever else was going on in my young life.) Whatever I said definitely had to be pulled out of me.

Like so many things that would be a treasured piece of the past, I’m afraid that none of those old recordings are left. As we moved from reel-to-reel to cassette tapes, the tapings became less and less frequent. The cassette tapes just weren’t the same and right now, I don’t ever remember us sending any of those back and forth. In addition, we never did keep the recording that was received. It was always taped over when doing the return tape. But wouldn’t it be fun if my cousin LaFrieda and I could figure out who sent the last recording and better yet, discover that it didn’t get taped over.



Until Next Time!