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While You Were Sleeping

September 3, 2011 in aging parents, dad, family with 0 Comments

Dear Dad,

It’s your 80th birthday, sweet daddy of mine. I can’t remember the last time we were able to celebrate a birthday together.

In my mind, I picture you sleeping in your nursing home bed oblivious to the specialness of this day.

Now that I think about it, you’d be oblivious to the specialness of this day even if you were up, around, and sharp as a tack. You never thought your birthday was a big deal.

But I do.



Dad’s first and last visit to Arizona.


For 80 years the big heart of Billy Ray Walker has beaten a rhythm of love and loyalty, of music and mischief, and of humor and hard work.

For close to a decade, you’ve slept your life away.

I’ve watched your calloused hands soften, your muscles atrophy and your farmer’s tan fade.

Holdin’ hands with my dad

A lot has happened while you were sleeping.

Your grandchildren have grown into fine human beings.

You’d be so proud of what a wonderful mom Cindy is to Chase.

Cindy and Chase at Mardi Gras

 Clint is out of school and working hard. He loves to be outside and isn’t afraid to get dirty to get the job done. He had to grow up fast when he became a dad and even faster when his baby boy passed away from a sudden illness.

Clint and his girlfriend

Matt is engaged to a beautiful girl we all adore, and he’s almost done with school. He has his own business, Dad! He reminds me so much of Buddy…and you.

Matt and Shields just after he popped the question

Garrett is a senior and ready to venture out on his own. He wants to be a movie producer and an entrepreneur. He always has a new idea swirling in his intelligent mind. 


Garrett and me on his 17th b’day


Logan lives and breathes music and girls. I doubt you’d take too kindly to some of his music choices, but I think you’d like his taste in girls. He’s one of the most tender-hearted, sweet people I know. I’m glad we gave him “Walker” for a middle name.

Logan: Girls and little kids adore him

Jacob, my baby, is like I was when I was a girl, full of words. He gets in trouble for talking just like I did. I regret you didn’t get a chance to know him better, Dad. He’s funny, smart, and creative, and he’d find all kinds of new uses for your spare tractor parts.

Jake showing his mad duct tape skills

I don’t know about Katie, Dad. We haven’t heard from JoAnn for a long time.


  • Katie with her big ol’ daddy, Dean

    

Dad…you don’t know this, but while you were sleeping, Dean died.

He fell asleep on his couch watching a cowboy movie and never woke up. I like to think one of his last thoughts was of his cowboy dad.

I’m glad you slept through that one, Dad, because losing your boy would have broken your heart just like it broke Mom’s.



Dad with Dean and Buddy


After losing Dean in February, 2008, we weren’t prepared to lose Uncle Joe in June, but we did. He fought cancer long and hard.

Karla, Dean, Aunt Venia, little Katie, and Uncle Joe

Then, in October, Buddy was diagnosed with cancer. He lasted nine months before God took him to heaven.


Dad on Christmas with Buddy cutting up in the background.

 All that loss could have broken our family down, Dad, but it didn’t.

We are stronger than ever. We love each other even more. We don’t take life for granted because we know everything could change in an instant.

Once we let the grief run its course, the sun started shining on us again.

God brought Bubba Smith back into Karla’s life. Remember him, Dad? He worked many a hot Saturday afternoon helping you mow pastures, work on tractors, and haul top soil.

Bubba and Karla on their wedding day, March 2009

Oh, Dad, he treats Karla like a queen. It thrills me to see them so happy together. He and Matt get along just fine. I think it’s a comfort to Matt for Karla to have a good man to spend her life with.

I’m still your darlin’, Dad. I’ve had some low times dealing with depression, but God used it to create a new heart in me. I’m fully convinced that I’m not just your darlin’, but my Heavenly Father’s darlin’, too.

A teen-age me with my dad

I’m teaching at a junior high school, and I know you won’t believe this, but I can actually teach math! I’m not a mathematical lost cause after all!! Every time I get a math skill to sink into a struggling kid’s head, I think about how proud my math teacher daddy would be of me.

Dad, I miss you so much. I can’t count all the times I’ve wanted to pick up the phone and call you for advice or just to hear your voice. Rest assured, Cliff is always there for me. We’ve been by each other’s side through a million wonderful moments and a handful of horrific ones. My hand still fits perfectly in his. He treats your baby girl very well.



Cliff and me. I am so blessed.


I’ll try to come see you in October when I have a school break. Do you think that, just maybe, you could wake up and sing with me? Can you call your girls by name? Can you remember us, just a little?

Know that whether you know us or not, we know you. While you are sleeping, our love for you remains deep and strong.

Happy birthday, Dad.

Love,

My Cowboy, My Dad

June 18, 2011 in aging parents, dad, dementia, father's day with 2 Comments

The gentle whinny of a quarter horse haunts my thoughts.

The rhythmic clickety-claps of shod feet on barn floor set my heart to a new tempo.

The smell of wood shavings, hay, and sweet feed tickles my nose with recollection.

The velvet touch of a horse’s muzzle to my hand wielding treats makes me smile.

Horses are key players in countless memories of my cowboy daddy, Billy Ray Walker.

Only his love for family outdid his adoration of horses with their muscular lines and simple wisdom.

Dad spent as much time working with horses as he could. We always had a few horses grazing the pasture of our Keithville home. I can still hear Dad’s whistle and whoop to call them to the barn for supper, usually a mixture of sweet feed and straight grain. In the winter, some hay was thrown in for good measure.
Dad’s pickup truck logged many a weekend mile hauling my sister and me to barrel races. His cheers from the sidelines only encouraged, never criticized.
Once he retired, Dad took up cutting, an event where horse and man work as a unit to “cut” one calf from the herd with as much grace and accuracy as possible. It was the first time I saw Dad compete on a horse. He was so proud of his saddles and buckles he won.

But then dementia slipped in…slowly at first. Little lapses in memory here and there. A lack of zest for life. Slips in judgement became a concern.

He never lost his love for horses.

One evening, he decided a young horse needed to be broken. It was time for that horse to hold a saddle and rider.

Alone in the corral, the sun close to setting, the battle of wills began. The horse won. Its fighting and flailing threw my dad down, his head landing hard on concrete.

That was the end of independent life for my cowboy daddy. After weeks in the ICU, rehabilitation, and skilled care, he finally settled into a nursing home full of kind staff, pureed meals, and adult diapers.

For the first few years, he startled the nurses with his whistle whoop as he called the horses from his bed. 

Seventy years of horses scan through his mind as dementia erases his memories, one-by-one.

He still calls the horses every once in a while, but mostly the cowboy sleeps.

I like to think he dreams about a sunset trail ride with everyone who loves him.

Happy Father’s Day, My Cowboy, My Dad!
I will always love you!