First Fish

Last weekend, we drove up to Alabama to take care of the things in my dad's house. The goal was to clean out the house, bagging or boxing things to be given away, packing up his truck of all the things we wanted to keep, and generally saying goodbye to the house which will eventually be sold. On Saturday, a dozen people showed up to help. I am still awed by the outpouring of support. But it's more about my dad than me. He was loved. Even those of us that he drove crazy couldn't help but love him. He was that type of guy. Loud, talkative, vulgar, and so very, very kind. Loyal and loving.

Now my garage is full of books, cds, and artwork. A Braves cap, wine glasses, and a canoe. Such a random collection of life. It saddens me sometimes that this is all that's left, but the truth is that there is so much more in my memory. My memories will fade, but I will never forget the way my dad made me feel when he would say, "There's nothing you could do that would make me stop loving you." So I gave away lots of his things, and threw away some more, and cussed him for keeping so much junk, but he still loves me. And that's what really matters.

My mom brought the boys up to visit while we were there and Matthew got a fishing lesson from Uncle Jack. Must have been a good lesson, because they caught a huge catfish. Since we didn't have a way to cook it up that night, my uncle Nick was kind enough to take it home. I'm sure it was good eatin'. At one point, Matthew got confused and mistook my Uncle Pat for his Pappy and said, "Oh, Pappy! We thought you were dead." Man, it's a good thing I wasn't there for that one because even on the retelling I wasn't sure whether to laugh or cry. I know Matthew was a bit embarrassed but I think he's handling everything pretty well.

Now we're back home and back in school and life is chugging along. I'll soon be starting a graduate course online, which is something I've been wanting to do for years but haven't made time for. My dad's death has given me the kick in the pants I need to do some things I've been putting off. And after spending the weekend going through someone else's stuff, I'm committed to reducing the burden on anyone who might be looking through my house. Two trips to Goodwill, one Craigslist curb alert, and three well-organized shelves later I feel better about the state of affairs in my house. Now if only it would stay that way...