Blog 708 – 07.31.2017
My Daddy’s Last Day Here

I do not believe in memorializing tragedy but in remembering the good times and letting go the memories not so sweet. Having said that I would like to share the last day that I got to spend with my daddy. It had been a couple of years since I had seen my folks, they living in Chattanooga, my birth place, and I with my wife and small son in Houston, Texas. Up till that time, I had seen them at least once a year. Several years before this dad had said the drive out had just gotten too long for him and mom to make and flying just cost too much so it would be up to us to make the drive if we wanted to see them. We had pretty faithfully and I was so thrilled and anxious to see my folks as were Linda and Jonathan.

The drive just seemed to be taking forever and I confess I had grown a bit impatient and testy stopping to smell the roses, the many rest area breaks along the way, and even the beautifuI peacocks were less so than the faces I wanted to see. But we did finally arrive in Chattanooga late afternoon on Saturday. We had hugs all around and a nice visit with the folks before bed. Mom had supper for us and as always dad had lots of tools and treasures to show me on back porch and in his large work shed that he had made of the separate garage. I had purposely left room in the trunk of the car for all the stuff I knew he would give me, learning long before that, “No thanks.” was just not an option when Dad wanted to give you something – just take it and say thank you was the way it was always going to work out no matter how hard you might resist. The empty space was almost full before we slept that first night.

I heard dad up early, having his breakfast, listening to the news on the little TV in the kitchen. My folks had this wonderful old house with central heat and the duct in the kitchen transfered sound to all the rooms and both bathrooms like you were there. I got up,  slipped on some clothes and went to the kitchen to visit with dad. His oft told stories I had so missed but he “held court” (An expression descriptive of how dad told stories) if interrupt him you tried, rarely succeeding, he never lost his place and started again right where he left off. After about an hour he cut short his stories so he could rustle up more fishing equipment, tools, and whatnot to send back with me.

Mom fixed breakfast for the two of us and we had a chance to talk too. She told me of dad getting down in his back earlier in the year and being unable to get out of bed for several day. Having to care for him (most of us guys are such big babies when we’re sick) was quite a strain on her. And she said, “I just don’t think I could take care of him if he really got sick for a long period.” She never had to for this was his last day.

Linda and Jon came straggling out sleepy eyed and hungry for breakfast. I am sure the bacon and egg smells from our breakfast had awakened them more than our conversation. Mom started their breakfast during which dad came back in and after going to his room came out carrying his Knights of Pithius ceremonial sword. Dad and one of his sisters had found the sword in a barn when they were young. Seven year old Jonathan was fascinated with it and so dad smiling said, “Boy I have some good news and bad news for you. First I have decided to give you my sword when I die. But, the bad news is that I plan to live to be a hundred.” The picture on today’s blog was taken right about the time he uttered those words. Dad was not a prophet nor I the son of a prophet. He had been a little under the weather and so he retired early that Sunday evening. And sometime while mom, Linda, Jonathan, I played that Monopoly game on the dining room table, just a few feet down the hall dad’s spirit took flight and left his body for mom to find when she went to check on him before we all headed for bed. Those plans were interrupted as we waited for the police and the funeral home folks.

It is never easy to say good-bye to loved ones but I remember thinking how glad and grateful I was to get to spend that last day with dad, to be there with mom when he passed, and to have my wife and little boy with me to comfort me in the loss of the one man who had always been there for me. James Clifford White had his flaws as do we all but they were so insignificant in the light of the wonder that he was, is and will always be.
I still cannot help saying it when so many things in this life, especially my face in the mirror, remind me of him: “I love you, daddy.”

Your friend and fellow traveler,
David James White