A man of many names: Billy, Sweetie, Dad, Papaw, Pa T, and – my favorite – Pop Pop.
He stands tall in them all, showing his three daughters, his 11 grandchildren, and 3 great-grandchildren how life should be lived.
He takes his iced tea sweet and his marriage even sweeter. If there are sour lemons he says, “give them to her” because he believes his Sue just makes everything better. She is, after all, his pacemaker.
He believes in doing what he can for others. Selflessness is his superpower. An ear to listen. A hand to help.The shirt off his back. The food off his table. Thanksgiving means Miss Judy and Mrs. Wyatt’s plates are filled first, he even delivers.
He enjoys his treats. Pepsi, milk, and of course, dessert. Dessert is it’s own very important food group. Important because it helps him show his love for us in spontaneous visits of surprise ice cream or donuts.
He also shows his love with his work. A diesel mechanic for forty-some years to care for his family. Still farming the land once his grandfather’s. Raising cattle, raising girls, loving grandkids. That beautiful white farmhouse full of family, full of laughter, full of the fruits of his labor and love.
He can rest easy in the knowledge that he’s given his girls the tools we need, taught us the important lessons, to live our best lives. To work hard, to give of ourselves, to love well and be loved.
Thank you, Dad, for being you. Thank you, Dad, for loving us.
Love,
Victoria