How to Love your Daddy After He’s Dead

(After “How to Love Your Mother After She’s Dead” by Lidia Yuknavitch)

I first met Daddy just before he took his first drink. His oldest sister Irma was feeding the rabbits in the side yard and her husband Mackey gave him a sip of his beer. Later Daddy would give his only son Mackey’s name and his first drink.

I first met Daddy when he was in the army stationed on Okinawa sitting in front of a tent while everyone else stood. “Never stand up when you can sit down. Never sit down when you can lay down.” I learned a lot from Daddy.

I first met Daddy when he stole a Ford from the Naval Base in Norfolk Virginia. He didn’t really steal it. But I thought he had because he’d brought home the silverware embossed with US Navy and he never returned it. My sister still has the knives and forks.

I first met Daddy when he stretched out on the grass that covered Mama’s grave and said “Bury Me Now” and I took a picture. 10 years later to the day he crawled in next to her. I wore a big black hat and a red dress.  I buried him in red pajamas. I wanted him to be comfortable.


1 Comment

Filed under Nonfiction

One response to “How to Love your Daddy After He’s Dead

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