The last 4 days have been a whirlwind. We got home late last night, after a terribly hard day and week. We were out of medicine, clothes, and tears. We had to come back to Clayton and restock. We are going to need more of all them in the next few days.
I am a sentimental guy. It cuts both ways. I have little use for those that have done me wrong. I remember the sentiment. I am working on the good Christian part, and working on forgiving them and letting it go. I mean, they are not carrying the burden, I am. And, I don't want to waste my energy on them, continuing to carry the burden. But, I am about as Scottish in ancestry as you can get in America, after 370 years. I would have the blue paint on my face, and be living the feud, if that were still acceptable.
But, honestly, I do have much more memory and consideration for the good things in my life. My life has been informed by amazing women, too many to count. I love them all, honor them all and treasure them all. They were instrumental in shaping the man I am today.
But, I am the man I am today, because I am Joseph Walter Hill, Sr.'s first born son. I am his namesake. I look like him, in almost every way. I have many of his traits. I have his temper. I have his quiet humor. I have his cough. I sit like him. I owe who I am to him, in ways I will never realize and never have enough gratitude for.
For the last few weeks, as we have all dealt with Daddy's health issues, whenever we went somewhere, the question would be asked, who are you. It got to be easiest to answer, I am Junior. That let them know my name, and my relationship to Daddy, quickly and easily. It just got to be the quick answer that worked best.
I will share a secret, here, I am not all the proud of. I always hated to be called Junior. I did not like the name, and didn't realize when I was younger that it made me feel like a shadow, not a real person. I have never liked the name, or those that called me that, all my life. And, I am pretty sure I got that from Daddy. He didn't like anyone calling me that, but him. He would tell them, that is Joey. And, he had that tone of voice that made it permanent immediately.
He never wanted me to be a shadow. He never wanted any of us to be a shadow. He was, and is, proud of all of us, his children and grandchildren. Whatever we may feel about ourselves, he is proud of all of us, all the time. I think it is very hard to get anywhere in the world, if you do not have the experience of knowing someone whose worth you treasure beyond description, is proud of you. If you have experienced that feeling, the world is not as daunting, nor is it a place that scares and confuses you. You know you have made at least one very fine man, proud. It is enough, even in the tough times.
But, back to my point, that name Junior, it really never was my cup of tea. I have signed documents with Junior in my signature for 48 years. I am as proud of that word in my name as any of the others. But, like everyone, I wanted to be my own person, to stand on my own two feet. I did not realize how heavy the world was, when you did that.
For the last few weeks, as we have navigated the events that led up to yesterday, it just came out. "I am Junior." There would be a smile and a nod, and then we did not have any more questions or discussion about how I fit into the equation. It worked. And, I did not think about it, until I was driving home last night at one in the morning.
That name magnifies me, so much more than it relegates me. If ever I can be junior, if ever I can be enough of a loving, caring and decent man to just be a Joe junior, I will have made it. I am positive that last night, Daddy did a few things when he left us.
I know it is not doctrinal, nor does it match what John and Isaiah wrote. But, last night, the angels and saints were absolutely driving around heaven in '57 Chevrolets, dropped low and neat, without anything but all that chrome that always made Daddy smile. Except for one. A tiny little woman, so excited that she couldn't sit still in the seat, slid to a halt at those gate in a long, straight black 58 Ford. The only decoration was some simple white lettering on the front fenders, "Bad Alimogator".
I am positive she jumped out, and all of heaven celebrated when Daddy wrapped her up in his arms. There has been a 28 year wait for that, that I am positive Mama did not notice, but it weighed every day on Daddy.
And in that car, because it is big enough to hold them all, was Granny, on two good legs; Billy, with his hair slicked back; Harry, proud as he could be; and Jeffrey, to give his Daddy the hug he has been waiting for. Judy and Jan, smiling and giggling, because Joyce doesn't go anywhere without them. In my mind, there was a celebration of joy and completeness, I can see it plain.
Then, if I know my Daddy, he piled them in that big, beautiful, black machine, dropped it down into low and laid perfect, straight, dark tiremarks down the center of that golden street, smiling that crooked smile, chin quivering. And, I am betting God gave him the time himself, and he broke seven. The perfect run.
That is what my Daddy had, in the end, the perfect run. I know that there was sadness. I know that there was suffering. I know there was loneliness. I know that there was sickness. I know that there was struggle. But, if you ask me, he broke seven, without a sweat.
I don't know how to say goodbye to him. He is so much of my life. I just know that he is not struggling for air. I know that his hands have the strength they used to. I know he has that black Vitalis look, and every hair in place. And right there beside him, he has the only woman he loved in his entire life. I don't know if there is marriage in heaven, I know what the Bible says. But, I know that regardless, Joe Beans is going to be standing next to Joyce, worshiping the Father. You better believe it.
I never wanted this day to come. I guess we all know that it will eventually. But, last night, surrounded with the family that loved him, listening to us laugh, tell stories, celebrate all that he gave us and made us, Daddy slipped away to take a little nap, like he used to tell us. I pray that I am surrounded by that much love, when my time is done. I can't think of a thing he would have changed about it, in fact, there was not a thing he asked for that was not there.
My heart hurts, because this is final on this side of God. But, my soul is happy. I know where my Daddy is, he is with my Father, and that is enough for me. I want to thank you all for the prayers and support and kind words. I, and my family, treasure them. We appreciate it more than I can describe.
I am going to close and see if I can hear that big block in that Ford, singing on the breeze. Absolutely, God loves him some Joe Beans, and he gave him to us for a while. But, heaven needed someone just right, and they got him at 9:21 last night.
God bless you Daddy. You surely enough blessed us all.
GLYASDI
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