A Sentimental Journey – Part 1

What follows is the story of the day my daddy passed away, including some backstory for reference. I first wrote it back in 2005 for my original “AroundJoy” blog, where I used to write stories, even before I ever touched a hoop or started my business you see today. I’ve edited the post slightly, only adding some new photos…and I’ve have decided to keep it’s 2-part format – please make sure you go on and read Part 2 of the story AFTER you read this…you can link to it after this post…

Here’s to you, daddy…

OK, I know what your thinking…sentimental journey? AGAIN? Didn’t she just talk about her mother the other day, who passed away so long ago? More sad memories and reminiscing?

Truth is…yes…but go with me here a sec…it’s really quite the contrary. It’s not sad…rather, it’s so much more about joy. Just keep reading…even into Part 2…trust me on this. There’s a whole point to this story…a real blessing and gift weaved into the day my daddy died, November 16, 1981. So, while memories are all swirling, I thought now would be as good a time as any to share more of my life with you…expand on what I’ve told you so far, giving you more insight into…me.

I’m the baby of the family, about 10 years younger than my sisters, so luckily, I can rely on them for stories of things that I have really no memory of as a very young child. That’s not to say I don’t remember things…..I really DO have plenty of wonderful memories of both my parents! I was their baby girl, a “surprise” to be sure, mama was 40 when she had me, and daddy was 46. I brought a smile to my parents faces that could light up a room, and I especially remember my daddy’s smile. He adored me. I have no doubt in my mind. He loved me and both my sisters more than life itself. Mama did too, but daddy was my “soft” parent, at least when I was younger…and momma was the more “firm” one. She was home more with me, often to dish out the discipline and rules. That’s not a bad thing, it’s just that daddy was all hugs and kisses when he got home….mama was the one who dealt with for all issues, big and small. She was my manager, coach, teacher and biggest supporter. Daddy was my buddy and teacher of all things non-girly! He often said he was expecting a boy, but got me, and so he tried to make me a tomboy…didn’t ever quite pan out, but I did lots of fun things with him! He worked so hard, made a living, provided for our family and so it went. It was the 60’s…women in the home, men working…and daddy worked A LOT.

Daddy had a drive-in grocery store. It was like the “Italian” thing to do back then, either have a grocery market, liquor store or restaurant. My dad’s family was in the grocery business, all his brothers and even his sisters had stores (or the ladies were married to someone who had one). Plus, many other cousins on his side of the family had stores, as well, not to mention that my mom’s family also was in the “grocery business” down in Waco! Yep, so that was a perfect match when they met up, and you can understand why…they had so much in common!

I mean, he LIVED at his store, y’all…hardly ever a day off! Well, very few…I seem to remember even him coming home VERY late on Christmas Eve…and it was a HUGE deal for him to close early on New Year’s eve. He did close on Thanksgiving, but you get the idea. He WAS his main employee. He never had more than one other guy that took a shift at the store part of the day. Daddy was there everyday, almost all day, until midnight most of the time, or even later.

One thing that I remember about daddy was that he got home late from the store, well after my bedtime when I was a little girl. He would ALWAYS come into my room, every night, and give me a goodnight kiss. It woke me up sometimes and I would hug him back, then go right back to sleep. I just remember those moments SO vividly. I’d give anything to smell his leather jacket and that  “store” smell that came to my side every night as I slumbered. It was the most comforting thing. I felt safe, secure and loved. I always did.  

Now, keep in mind, by the time I was in high school, my folks were “older” parents. Daddy turned 65 my senior year and momma turned 58…need I say more? They were pretty tired, and I was…ummm, how do I say it? A rebel…a wild child…a really spirited, fun girl! You know what I mean. I could get away with pretty much what I wanted to, as you can imagine. SO much so, I felt bad for my parents and tried not to take advantage too often. Looking back, though, I now regret it, as I reflect with all my grown-woman, midlife parenting wisdom. Amazing what years of life experience can make your realize, isn’t it? I can’t even imagine at my age NOW (which is where they were then) having a ME to keep up with. Lord help them.

My folks didn’t have the same “spunk” as the other, younger parents. They looked like they were my grandparents, as well. Imagine my embarrassment sometimes, but not all the time. They were cute and so loving. They had a sweet way about them, always giving me the very best of everything…always coming to all my events (band, choir, drill team, dance recitals and plays). They never missed anything, making sure I took dance lessons and twirling lessons for years. Daddy spoke about me to friends, customers and relatives as if I was already a “star” and that made me feel so special. They loved to see me perform, too. I think that’s what I remember most about my dad. He just loved anything I ever performed in, and he bragged about it in the sweetest way….he was a loud, proud Italian! Gee, and you wonder why I am the way I am about my kids!??

When I went off to college at UNT (a.k.a. NTSU) in 1978, mama and daddy finally had a completely empty nest after about 30 years…YIKES! I’d be ready to have it, TOO! Between then and the fall of 1981, they were a little Italian couple again, with only few health problems, but nothing too major, I recall. They got around slower, but daddy was much more active than momma. He ALWAYS took care of her and pretty much did everything for her.

Mother had more health issues that we were aware of, and at age 60, she seemed MUCH older to everyone, including those closest to her. She had an enlarged heart and some symptoms that presented like Parkinson’s disease, but wasn’t as serious. Her walking was affected due to all this, stamina-wise, but also her actual walk and gait suffered- she shuffled her feet and was prone to falls.

Daddy was heading towards age 70 and on the flip-side, was just was like the little Energizer Bunny…going, going and going. If he wasn’t at the store (he worked PT for a cousin, as he had “retired” from his own store and was renting it to another man). He had to be “piddling” with something. Yard work was a BIG thing to him, always mowing (push mower) or something…no electric or gas tools, either. That man would go out and just drip in sweat, and get a DARK tan, too! We lived on a busy corner, and more than once, someone stopped to ask him “how much he charged! He LOOKED like a “yardman” instead of the owner of our home! Daddy always got a kick out of that!

He was just a simple man – no fluff, hard worker, a loving family man. The Italian roots, from both my mom AND dad’s families ran REALLY deep. We were close, we loved food, wine and good company. We gathered and bonded at holidays, weddings, funerals and even on Sundays after church. The smell of Italian food at our home was something that happened more than once weekly when I was growing up. On some days we went out to eat at – you guessed it – a cousin’s iconic Italian restaurant, Campisi’s Egyptian. MAYBE we would do a cafeteria meal at Wyatt’s or seafood at Chandler’s. We LOVED to eat and have family meals together. So, I tried to make it home from Denton to eat with them occasionally when I was in college. They loved to see me visit and always took me out when I drove in. Mama didn’t cook anymore once I moved away, and I didn’t come home TOO often, especially once I had been living on my own for a couple of years. Going home became a rare event. Well…that is, of course, unless when they offered to take me shopping!  This was the case on November 16th, 1981.

I was set to go spend Thanksgiving in NYC with some friends that I had met in Galveston earlier that summer, while working a musical theatre job. It would be my very first plane trip AND my first time to ever spend a holiday away from my family. Mama offered to buy me some early Christmas gifts. I needed new luggage for my trip, and maybe a new outfit. I had planned to go home to Dallas the day before that, but I had to switch at the last minute due to a work schedule conflict. Even though I had asked for the day off from my part-time cashier job, it didn’t happen, so this day, the 16th, worked out fine, just as well…mama and daddy didn’t care which day, just as long as I was coming down to see them!

Mama and I spent several hours at Northpark Mall in Dallas, while daddy stayed home “piddling.” I gave him a kiss in the driveway as we were getting in the car to leave for our shopping trip….I kissed him goodbye, I remember him saying “Don’t spend too much, now…I love you.” I drove off with mama. We returned after dark, that evening, a little past suppertime. I had new luggage and this fabulous new pair of shoes.

I still have those shoes today…watch me highlight them in a short Facebook LIVE video HERE 

I will NEVER, EVER get rid of them. They still fit me! That’s not why I keep them, though. You see, I have kept those shoes for sentimental reasons. I’ve loved those shoes since the moment I saw them…and I got them on the day my daddy died.

To be continued… (keep reading more in Part 2)