Guest Post by Ellen Huff
My Mom was wonderful, completed dedicated to her family. She passed away when I was 23 years old, married and with two small children. The thing I missed most was being able to share about every adorable, amazing thing that my kids did, since her enthusiasm for Jason and Candace was as close to a parent as I could get.
Over time, my Dad started taking over the role of my Mom, and I started to take over the role of his companion. We soon settled into a routine of talking every night, since he was without a wife, and my husband was gone morning until late at night with his schooling and work. This is hard to believe, but my Dad, who was a man of few words on the phone, and I would talk for sometimes as long as an hour. He continued to mother me through a divorce.
When we both remarried, we became good friends, having companions to care for us. When my Dad’s second wife passed away, I eventually became his Mom.
We did so much together. We enjoyed weekly grocery shopping, went to doctor’s appointments, loved our walks and talks. We pulled out a tree with a rope and his truck, had bonfires to burn yard waste, mended fences, planted gardens, harvested fruit, shares plant starts, transplanted anything that was struggling at my place to his, and many other projects. My Dad even “stole” one of my dying peach trees while I was on vacation. We got a good laugh out of that. He became one of the most important, positive influences on my children, as he did these same projects with them.
We went back and forth for years, my Dad being my Mom, me being his companion, then being good friends, finally me being his Mom. It was my privilege and honor to take care for him until he passed away. I miss him every day.
Lately my Dad has been close.
l.. While pruning my fruit tree, I felt something sharp on my foot. As I dug in the soil, I found his pruners that we had lost 8 years before. I have to admit that I cried the first time I pruned my fruit trees, which we always did together, after he was gone.
2. Dad gave me some bulbs to plant in the yard. They came up faithfully each year, flowered profusely and increased in size regularly. After moving some shrubs and taking out a tree, I noticed the bulbs all chopped up and destroyed. For years I have missed those beautiful plants that remind me of my Dad. This year out of nowhere up comes the original plant from my Dad’s bulbs. It is big and blooming profusely.
3. A shamrock plant was given to each of the Sisters in the Mission Office. I kept mine in my room, and it started blooming with the most beautiful white flowers. The other two shamrock plants in the other offices did not show signs of one bud. I picture my Dad caring for my plant.
During these special times, I whisper softly, “Hi Dad.”
Some nights I wake up suddenly with a jerk while having a nightmare, so afraid that I forgot to call my Dad the past day. Then I realize that he is happy and at peace.
