Wishing I Could Hear His Voice!

I turned seven years old in August of 1953. Dad died January 2, 1954. It was an unbelievable experience for us all. I well remember him being carried from our apartment on a stretcher to the ambulance. I well remember the outpouring of grief and sympathy accompanying his death. There was a memorial service held in Port Arthur, Texas. His body was then transported by train to a small rural town in Louisiana where another funeral service was held and he was buried nearby in a local cemetery. I remember all of these events clearly. I can replay them in my mind. The problem I have is in remembering stuff prior to his death.

I know the psychologists say this type of blotted out or blocked memories is not unusual especially in children who experience such a earth shattering traumatic event in their life. I can pick up bits and pieces, here and there, but seven missing years? That’s always been a really tough thing for me to deal with. I know I was just a kid but I also know we lived in different places and I know I had to have been involved in lots of different things, but most of it is at best only seen in fading glimpes of shadows, along with stories I’ve adapted from hearing others share their recollections.

I’ve been bothered by this at different times and in different ways but typically always come away frustrated in not being able to get a clear picture. I have been blessed with a pretty good memory, therefore, I know the information is stored. It has to be. I considered hypnosis once but that would involve placing myself in an altered state of consciousness and I have some real issues with doing that. So I never tried this method of unlocking that part of my life.

It may not sound like a big deal to most folks because God has surely blessed me in my life with a great mom, an otherwise wonderful childhood, a good wife, three boys and their families, and wonderful friends, and too many blessings to count. Please don’t get the idea I am complaining about not being able to remember these years, just puzzled and at times somewhat frustrated in trying to grab hold of some of it. One of the things that most bothers me is that I know that I have to know more about my dad than I can get my arms around.

Not that I have lacked for information about him. Growing up, everyone who knew him told me something about him. Since he worked for a railroad company we received a railpass when he died. I used this pass quite often to travel from Louisiana to visit my cousins in Texas. In doing so, on nearly every trip I would be inundated with conductors and other train people telling how smart my dad had been and how he would have been helping run the company had he lived. Sometimes word spread that I was on the train and workers would come back from other areas just to express sympathy and tell me what a great man my dad was.

I know some of that recollection on their part was likely their way of encouraging me. But I have been told all my life that I am very much like my dad, so in some ways those comments were like compliments if I have shown any of those same characteristics. One of the things I’ve often longed for was just to hear my dad’s voice. I’ve been told to listen to myself and I will hear him speak but that’s just not the same. I am blessed to be able to have at least one conversation every day with all three of my boys. We talk about jobs, challenges, family, and other stuff that’s going on. While I will be the first to say I’ve not always been the dad I should have been, I count these conversations as a tremendous blessing that God has permitted me to enjoy, one I will have to wait until I see my dad in heaven to enjoy with him.

In doing some genealogical research on my dad’s family I have learned many new facts about him and his life. He, like us all, had his good points and some that could have been improved. Since he left at age 30 I would suppose he was a work in progress and come to think about it, at 61, I am too! The good news is that I have a wonderful stepdad and he and I can enjoy talking for hours. The other good news is that out of these sixty plus years I have many treasured blessings in the 54 years I remember well. For these things and many more I am grateful! Amen. More later……………..