Many of you may have had the pleasure of meeting my dog George. We have a LONG past together. Ya see, when I was 14 and a freshman in high school, my boyfriend at that time gave me a puppy for Christmas. Christmas of '95. I named the puppy George. Half dalmatian and half whatever else. Black lab? Schnauzer? Who knows?
George became my everything. When I was home he was right by my side. He was literally my baby. We did everything together. After I met Matt and he left for the navy, George was that piece of happiness that got me through my hardest days. I remember being pregnant with Ethan and spending almost everyday either on the couch or in my parents bed watching tv...George right there with me.
Two days after Matt and were married we left to start our life together in Virginia. I couldn't bring George so he stayed with my folks. My dad loved this, I'm sure. Anyway, I remember kissing my parents and saying goodbye. We left. Then 5 minutes down the road, I realized I never said goodbye to George. I made Matt turn the car around and I went to hug him and tell him bye. All that because I was NOT leaving town without telling him I loved him. After that, life got crazy but whenever I was home for a visit things were the same. He was my baby. Once I started having kids that whole bond kinda got shuffled in the midst of my new life. I never stopped loving him. He has lived with my parents for the past 15 and a half yrs and has been a part of our family. Today, a piece of our family died. George, at 95 yrs old in human years went to heaven this morning. Taya said "It's okay, he'll be right back." Boy I wish she were right. I know he's no longer suffering and I believe with all my heart that he will watch over our family. I'm pretty sure that we all, myself, my mom, my dad and my brother all are taking this harder than we ever thought we would. This is tough.
No matter how mad he made us all at times, he was an awesome dog. A great protector and to me, he was one of the best friends I ever had.
I love you, George.
Friday, June 24, 2011
Saturday, June 18, 2011
My Father
As long as I can remember my father has always been a man with a heart of gold. When I think of my childhood, I'm reminded of a great song, "Daddy's Hands".
I remember Daddy´s hands, folded silently in prayer.
And reaching out to hold me, when I had a nightmare.
You could read quite a story, in the callouses and lines.
Years of work and worry had left their mark behind.
I remember Daddy´s hands, how they held my Mama tight,
And patted my back, for something done right.
There are things that I´ve forgotten, that I loved about the man,
But I´ll always remember the love in Daddy´s hands.
Daddy's hands were soft and kind when I was cryin´.
Daddy´s hands, were hard as steel when I´d done wrong.
Daddy´s hands, weren´t always gentle
But I´ve come to understand.
There was always love in Daddy´s hands.
I remember Daddy´s hands, working 'til they bled.
Sacrificed unselfishly, just to keep us all fed.
If I could do things over, I´d live my life again.
And never take for granted the love in Daddy´s hands.
Growing up I know I wasn't an angel to live with much less easy to parent but I do know that my dad could never love me more.
I remember a picture taken of us at my mom's uncle's house in the hill country when I was about 8 or 9. I have no idea where the picture is today but I can still picture it vividly in head. Even what I was wearing. We were sitting on the back deck. I was curled up in his arms, my head on his chest.
Now that my brother and I have babies of our own my daddy became Pepa or "P" as Ethan calls him. I could have never known what an asset my dad would be to my children. Next to their daddy, their pepa reigns supreme.
These past few months have been a real trying time for my dad. A time to see what he is made of. He is a man of great strength, wisdom and most of all love.
How fortunate we all are for having my father in our lives, but more than that, how lucky am I to call him my dad.
I remember Daddy´s hands, folded silently in prayer.
And reaching out to hold me, when I had a nightmare.
You could read quite a story, in the callouses and lines.
Years of work and worry had left their mark behind.
I remember Daddy´s hands, how they held my Mama tight,
And patted my back, for something done right.
There are things that I´ve forgotten, that I loved about the man,
But I´ll always remember the love in Daddy´s hands.
Daddy's hands were soft and kind when I was cryin´.
Daddy´s hands, were hard as steel when I´d done wrong.
Daddy´s hands, weren´t always gentle
But I´ve come to understand.
There was always love in Daddy´s hands.
I remember Daddy´s hands, working 'til they bled.
Sacrificed unselfishly, just to keep us all fed.
If I could do things over, I´d live my life again.
And never take for granted the love in Daddy´s hands.
Growing up I know I wasn't an angel to live with much less easy to parent but I do know that my dad could never love me more.
I remember a picture taken of us at my mom's uncle's house in the hill country when I was about 8 or 9. I have no idea where the picture is today but I can still picture it vividly in head. Even what I was wearing. We were sitting on the back deck. I was curled up in his arms, my head on his chest.
Now that my brother and I have babies of our own my daddy became Pepa or "P" as Ethan calls him. I could have never known what an asset my dad would be to my children. Next to their daddy, their pepa reigns supreme.
These past few months have been a real trying time for my dad. A time to see what he is made of. He is a man of great strength, wisdom and most of all love.
How fortunate we all are for having my father in our lives, but more than that, how lucky am I to call him my dad.
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