I Know You’re There, A Breath Away, Not Far

I wish you could have known my Dad.  He was just the sweetest person around. Dad was a trucker and had lot’s of good buddies, his CB name was ‘Huckleberry’, we thought that was just perfect.  He loved watching hockey and played with a bunch of guys from the Northern Alberta Institute until he broke his leg really bad one year.  Dad ensured we all played a lot of sports and came to everyones games. My Dad and I had a wonderful relationship and could chat for hours on the phone, I even had a dream once that he phoned me, how appropriate.  One of my favorite things, as a grown up,  was when dad would make us breakfast when I’d stay in town. We’d waste the morning finishing a pot of coffee.  It’s funny what you  miss sometimes. I also liked to see dad drive up in his car with Rambo sitting in the front passenger seat, such an irresistible couple.

 There’s so much to miss about dad;  his complete love for animals, his sense of humor, his expertise in all things handy and his devotion to his family. My Dad was a great story-teller and repeated the same one’s often.  Mr B sometimes tells me I’m just like my dad when I’m repeating a story, I can’t think of a nicer compliment.  Dad was the glue that bound us all together. Today, my dad would have been 80 years young.

Missing you today and always Dad,


Happy Birthday

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Lucky me, I have a dedicated craft room and currently design for Paige Taylor Evans and The Hip Kit Club. I mostly enjoy making 12x12 layouts and Mini Albums. Thanks so much for coming by 💛

27 thoughts on “I Know You’re There, A Breath Away, Not Far

  1. I’m one of those people who leaks at the slightest provocation. I see complete strangers experiencing a moment of joy or sadness and then I’m like the guardsman to the great door to the Emerald City–pinched-faced and blubbering.
    I read your memories of your dad and think what a lucky guy he was to have so many people adore him and a daughter who thought he made the world spin round.
    Sniff … sigh.


    1. Thank’s very much for going back to Dads post Shelley, and for your warm message. I’m glad I’m not the only one to weep generously over just about any sensitive moment, be it others, mine and especially animals. I think I got that from my Dad, he cared for every furry thing that crossed his path, even bumble bees. It’s about the best thing I ever could have inherited. As you can imagine, we miss him dearly. You’re a gem for commenting 🙂


  2. Very sweet remembrance. I also lost my dad in 2002; he would have been 86. I was the youngest of 4, and came a little later in my parents life, so I sometimes think I get the better of the deal. The others were married and gone by the time I was 10. I had my Dad and Mom all to myself!
    Thanks for sharing 🙂


    1. Thank you so much for your visit and sharing your thoughts. I think that’s perfectly sweet that you remember getting the better deal over your siblings. I bet it would be special being the only one at home. I’m sorry you lost your dad, I know you must miss him too. I feel lucky that we had a long goodbye but it still wasn’t long enough. Big hug to you.


  3. I just came across your blog through one of my favorite fellow bloggers…at One Hundred Years Ago. I love your blog also…and have nominated you for the Super Sweet Blogging Award! Congratulations! Please check the post about the award on my blog for the details. 🙂


    1. Thanks so much for all your visits, I really appreciate it. I can’t figure out how to comment at your BLOG? I did try and click on the ‘heartfelt’ link but it wouldn’t load? Daddy’s dog Rambo passed away in the mid 90’s, but while dad was still with us, we’d talk about Rambo a lot and he sure did miss him. Somehow, even when you get a new pet, the old ones are still part of your heart.


  4. Sending you love and hugs to go along with your sweet (and bittersweet) memories of your dad. He sounds like a remarkable man and clearly a wonderful father to you. Yes to what PJ says, you’ve inherited his love of storytelling. We all get to benefit from that each day (((Boomdee)))


    1. I sense you also miss your dad the same. I worry that as the years go by I’ll forget the sound of his laugh, so I try to remember something fun about dad everyday. Someday’s it’s easy and it makes you smile. Other days are, yes bittersweet. Thank’s for the hug and your sweet message Alys, you always know what to say to make it feel better.


    1. Oh Anne, I’m really sorry to hear that you’ve lost your dad too. You’ll really understand then about these extra special days. I wish I could share some sage advise on how to manage, but even after 13 years, I’m still figuring it out. You’re right, sometimes it feels like yesterday. Sending a hug your way. Thank you so much for sharing and your kind message .


      1. Thanks so much!! He had Alzheimer’s Disease and cancer. Alzheimer’s had already taken most of him away from us by the time the cancer took his body. He was sick a long time but because of the Alzheimer’s he wasn’t aware that there was anything wrong with him. We had weekly family dinners with him, and also I checked in on him several days a week while my stepmother was at work. (My sister and I traded off days.) It was a long road but it allowed me to do most of my grieving along the way. I still miss my daddy some days but most of the time the thought of him just brings a smile to my face.


        1. That really must have been tough. It seems so unfair. What a blessing you were able to be there to help and just share in your dads day. I imagine your stepmom was very greatful too. Your dad would be happy to know you’re thinking of him with a smile.


    1. Thanks Aunty K, it’s these special days that bring a lot of memories to mind. You know I appreciate all the stories you’ve shared about growing up in Willingdon. I’ve only listened to Josh sing that song about a hundred times and it always makes me sentimental. I guess that’s why it was written. See you Thursday, LUL2 xoK


  5. Your dad was amazing. I still hear his voice when I think of him. And his laugh. I can close my eyes and see his face, and have a lot of memories of him and my dad together. (They were 2 peas in a pod)! I love looking at old photos of the 2 of them together in their youth. They certainly were dashing fellows – and I can only imagine all the trouble they must’ve gotten in together as youngens! They both had that story telling ability – and what a great gift you inherited from him! I think you also have his fiery and fun spirit – and his gentle, kind nautre, and so many other amazing traits he had. oxox


    1. O My Dear ((( Sherri ))), you really do know how I feel. I’m so happy we can share that. If only there could’ve been a little more time to bask in their glow. They sure were dashing all right. That farm boy charm and gift of the gab served them well when it came to making life long friends. I feel so privileged to have inherited any of that magic. Big hug xoK


  6. Such a wonderful tribute to a man who obviously loved you very much. I would say that you have definitely inherited his talent for story telling – my tear stained handkerchief is testimony to that.
    So pour yourself another cup of coffee and just tell me one thing…… who’s Rambo?
    Big hugs and special thoughts to you x x x


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