On Dying, Aging, and Reminiscing

As mentioned earlier on this Blog, my father passed away on August 4th. The following email was sent to me by a childhood friend who still lives in my hometown. I include it here as a remembrance (especially for the over 40 crowd :).

I will miss seeing your daddy at church. We always sat near each other … on one of the back rows of course, as is Baptist tradition. It was difficult seeing his physical changes from week to week, but also an inspiration. I’ve often thought how his being there probably took great effort, and how we should all consider this when we use the smallest discomfort as an excuse to stay home.

Having never left this area except to attend college, I am reminded daily of people and events that form my fondest memories. Memories of my 12th birthday party at Emerald Shores [Huneycutt family lake house] are more vivid than those of my last birthday. I doubt you still have the platform shoes, but if you do, your son would probably find them amusing. Your band played LOUD music. Yesterday I passed the house of Bill Baker’s Studio [where I took guitar lessons] and noticed that it is either being torn down or going to be moved.

I will always remember your parents taking us to the Big Ways Birthday Ball [Four Tops, Charlie Daniels Band, Billy Preston, Black Oak Arkansas]. We ate at Pizza Hut.

We ate at the drive in across the road from the Charlotte Coliseum when they took us to the “Country-Western” Show. When Tammy Wynette came out to sing, your mom said it looked like she had forgotten to brush her hair. I enjoyed going to those shows, riding in the back seat of the white Impala with the windows down. Thank you for inviting me to go.

As we grow older, we tend to remember the things we choose to, and maybe even embellish our memories with thoughts of how much better things were then. It feels to me that we are older than our parents because in my mind, I see them as they were back then, which makes it difficult to see them as they are, which is older and with physical frailties. That’s why it was so hard seeing your dad as his health declined. I will miss him. He was proud of you.

I remember in 8th grade, we had to write an essay on something futuristic. You volunteered to read yours aloud, and we all laughed at the part you wrote about going to a vending machine to buy a bottle of water. At that time, it sounded far-fetched, and I’ve since wondered how you even came up with the idea. But that’s just the way you were, and with the support and encouragement from your mom & dad, you were never afraid to reach out a bit further than the rest of us, not letting the confines of our little place in the world hold you back from your dreams.

I was so happy to see you at the funeral, and it was only after you turned to talk to someone else that I remembered not having told you how sorry I am for your loss. My prayers have been with you and your family.