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 There he sat in a wheel
chair, shirtless, his body shriveled and tanned as worn leather. His
ribs and shoulder bones very visible against the taunt skin, his once
thick black hair was now thin and gray. His breathing was heavy and
difficult; it was obvious that he was struggling for life; the pain
would flash across his face occasionally then gradually recede.
I studied him that day. I never had
before did I ever know him? No, not really! I wonder did anyone really
know him? I looked into his small blue-gray eyes and
it was then, I realized that I was indeed looking at his soul.
His spirit was revealed to
me through the sparkle in his eyes. They contained light, energy,
mischief and yes, contentment. The expressions in his eyes would
change from time to time. I could not help but wonder what he was
thinking about or what route his mind was traveling-was it a route to
the past? and then too I began to remember.
I remembered:
That he loved to sing,
usually silly songs of his childhood or songs his father had taught
him. I especially remember when he used to sing to us the ditty, “ A
Frogy Went a Courting”. I remember that when he was working he would
place his tongue between his teeth slightly protruding from his lips.
One could tell the job was especially difficult by pressure he
exhorted on his tongue.
I remember he was a quite
man, not given to a lot of useless conversation, but he did like to
reminisce and when he did he talked about his life in Oklahoma and his
“Mamie”, he never referred to his mother as mom, it was always “Mamie”.
He spoke of huckleberries, wild plums, and sparkling cool creeks.
I remember that he was not
a church going man, yet his faith was unquestionable. He had read and
studied the Bible, yet he made no claim to be the ultimate authority.
Religion was a personal thing to him.
I guess I remember most
that Dad hated to say goodbye. We often discussed this, for I too
hated goodbyes. He sensed this when I left home for college and he
never made me feel guilty because he understood.
That day I sat on the porch
studying him, I realized that this was good-bye-unspoken, but never
the less good-bye
When the phone call came a
few weeks later I knew that He and I had already said good bye each in
our own way-each understanding when I refused to go to the funeral
home to view his lifeless body. I couldn’t for I had already said good
bye and now when I close my eyes, I see that weathered, tired, yet not
defeated body sifting in a wheel chair on the front porch and he has a
special delightful twinkle in his eyes and his soul revealed once more
to me-a soul of love and I say to his spirit ‘yes you understand, for
you always hated good-byes”.
We all must remember too,
you didn’t have to tell daddy that you loved him -He knew -he
understood -Remember he didn’t like good-bys.
1981 by Mildred Dicus-Walker
Song playing is "Victory In Jesus, which was daddy's
favorite gospel hymn
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I looked at his
rough and weathered hands, with knuckles gnarled white as they
gripped the wheels of his conveyance. Those hands; who long ago
held a tiny child to massage its heart as is gasped for breath.
Nancy, Uncle Bob was
the sweetest man I ever knew. I am glad I had the chance to know
him, Uncle Johnny, and Uncle Arvil. Although I guess Uncle Bob and
Aunt Margaret were the two of knew more. I remember their visits
when I was a child. Daddy also was a gentle man. Daddy told the
story of grandpa Dicus looking out on the cotton field and saw two
white headed children coming towards him. He made the comment that
their were two cotton heads coming his way. Of course it was Uncle
Bob and Pauline. Daddy talked a lot about Uncle Bob and Aunt
Pauline. The best to you! 
