I have a picture that was taken when I was six years old. I
remember the day, at least in the way anyone can remember forty years
past. My dad had just taught me my very first song, ‘Lovesick Blues’ by
Hank Williams, and told me if I kept practicing, I could be a professional
yodeler someday. In the picture, he is sitting in a chair and I have my
arms around his neck. He always had a way of making me feel
special.
I have
another, taken when I was twenty. There was a party going on, I don’t
remember the occasion, but he and I had ended up in the kitchen, away from the
crowd, having a drink and telling each other jokes. He made fun of my
boyish haircut. I called him Sonny Bono. He’s sitting in a chair
and I have my arms around his neck. He always had a way of letting me
know that he loved me.
The night
before he died, he told me how proud he was that I had grown into a good mother.
A good woman. I put my arms around his
neck. I remember it well. I don’t need a picture.
It has been twelve
years and Valentine’s Day has never been the same. It was his birthday
and this year would have been his seventy-fourth. If he were still here,
we'd have a drink and tell a few jokes.
He would make me yodel for him and I would make fun of him for being so
old. Then I would walk up behind him and wrap my arms around his
neck.
I still think
of him every single day. My father, my daddy, my friend...
My first valentine.
