The Approach of Memory—Sunday, Father’s Day, June 18, 2017

My father was not what I would call father.  He was Daddy.  Always!  Until the day he died…very suddenly, an extremely long-way from home.  It was a heart attack.  Leaving Momma stranded way down south.

Now that is NOT something he would have chosen to do. Leave Momma alone to deal with the biggest disaster of her life, but sometimes we don’t get to choose. He was 72 when he died.

(Thankfully they were visiting our son and then daughter-in-law; so Momma really wasn’t without help.)

It’s been years now (eighteen to be exact), still I feel him hovering over me…just over my shoulder, I catch a glimpse of him now and again, and once felt his hand on my back.

I often wonder what his life would have been like if his Daddy hadn’t died very young. (Pete died in 1936—Daddy was just nine (going on ten) years old at the time of his Dad’s death)

Grandma remarried and lived a very long and happy life with her second husband.  He brought, into their union three sons; his wife died right after the birth of the youngest boy.

Grandma brought Daddy.

Through the years the ‘family’ photos show the struggle of my Dad’s ‘never feeling like he belonged’.

I I think he never really felt like he ‘fit’ until he met and married Momma. Who came with her all her southern born aunts and uncles.  It was at this time he learned to hug and kiss and be swallowed up into a warm, gregarious, fun, outgoing family.

For which I am eternally grateful!

I will always long for them, Momma died just months after Daddy…she missed him too much.

But one thing I know…he really is always with me…I can feel him there—-just beyond my shoulder.

It is a blessing I cherish!

From my world to your heart,

Linda

Memories January 20, 2014

Although, my brother and I grew up on an orchard in Eckert, Colorado, our father owned and operated a gas station in Delta.  He ran this gas station until I was fourteen then he sold the business but continued on with the orchard.

DaddyThat’s Daddy, Lester Allen Doyle, standing on the bumper of his cousin’s cattle truck.  John Doyle and Bill Hamilton (both cousin’s) owned and operated a cattle trucking business.

At this time Sinclair and all other gas stations were full-service gas stations—meaning they would wash your windshields, check the air in the tires, check all the fluids in your car and fill the gas for you.  No woman’s gloved hand ever touched a gas pump nozzle; not when I was a child!

The best thing I remember about those times were getting up with Daddy before he left for work….he always got up at 4:30 in the morning, then he left for work around 5:15 to have the station opened and ready for business at 6 a.m.

We lived in Eckert, but the gas station was in Delta…the county seat and the largest town in our county.

Often times Daddy never got home until 8 p.m., closing the doors to the station around 7.  If I didn’t get up in the morning I just wouldn’t have seen him until Sunday.  Sunday every business closed, it didn’t matter what type of business.

Gradually over the years, the business grew so he could hire help, then he hired a manager, and he took over the deliver of the bulk gasoline and fuel oil and diesel.  Gradually that increased so he had two trucks and a helper.   Momma did the books for all the businesses.

In the summer my brother and I would ‘go to work’ with our Mother, spend the day at the office with her.  This meant we would walk down to the library, check out books (four at a time) come back and read.  We also took toys to play with.  Our Dad would get us big boxes we could make forts and houses and ‘stuff’.

Ahh…memories!

Your friend,

Linda