On our way to the east coast for our biannual beach vacation with family we stopped in Nashville, TN to see friends and have some adventures. Old friends are a treasure, and they should be treated as such. Big thanks to the Tierney’s (John, Allison, and Cash) for everything. I hope to meet these friends for more adventures in a different corner of the world soon.
This morning I dropped Flora off to be watched so I could spend some time alone and get a few things done. I anticipated a morning of joy and ease and then I played a song and things shifted. Johnny Cash’s “A Boy Named Sue”, a song that I have known every word to since I was in elementary school, I played and sang my heart out in the parking lot of Family Farm and Home as I prepared to haul some duck food home. I teared up a bit, thinking about my Papa (pronounced paw-paw, like a true southerner) who passed a few years ago. We were each other’s delights in life. He was a man full of spirit and charisma, coming from a farm in Arkansas. I spent much of my childhood in his care after my Grandma passed. We were each other’s sweet spot in a raw time of life. Every where we went he would chat it up with whoever was there, a secretary, a store clerk, a waitress, etc. I had Shirley temple curls when I was little and he would get perms and we would proudly wear our curls together ;) anytime anyone asked who I was or there was a time to introduce me, we had practiced my answer to be “I’m my Papa’s little hillbilly”. At his funeral, my uncle said I was his sun, moon, and stars and every head in that room nodded in agreement.
I had been listening to some other songs for a few weeks that reminded me of him and decided to text my dad for some more song recommendations of Papa’s favorites. My dad put together a short playlist on the spot and I started to listen and tears rolled. I called my Dad and we talked about the funny things he used to say. The first time he met Max, he complimented his hair and then proceeded to say “Well if we don’t like you, we’ll just eat you for dinner.” and laughed. My dad shared with me that one of the songs on the playlist he sent, my Papa used to sing to me when I was little. We hung up and I immediately listened to the song and cried my heart out. . . . a few times.
My morning has been full of a little (or a lot) of delayed grief, a bit of regret for not visiting him more at the end, and lots of love from the other side. I feel all of this so deeply because, you see, I was and still am my papa’s little hillbilly.