Our day was filled with people.  Food and people passing in and out of my house. Phone calls bringing us more details, and changing some of the details. So many people who cared so very much.  None could believe all that transpired.  We spent the day waiting for my sisters to get in from Atlanta.  We were finally all together at last, save one.  The one we were gathering to mourn.  Daddy was always such a presence in my family. When you remove a support beam, how weak a house does feel.  It may not fall down but it feels unsafe, rocky, wavering. Navigation becomes difficult.  This was us without him.  We all went to bed that night.  My sisters slept over at my house.  I lay awake crying.  I could hear the sporadic whimpers and crying from the room above.  Sisters sharing in the pain of enormous loss. The day had been full.  Full of people and talking, things to be done.  The night brought nothing at first, a deep breath, to lay down and rest. Oh, but then it came.  The memories flooded in.  I had 36 years worth of precious memories.  In the dark, I replayed the videeo in my mind.  Sweet things Daddy would  do or say.  Funny things, when we laughed with him and sometimes at him.  We would not do these things again. I had experienced theft before.  Theft of money, or jewelry.  You feel so invaded, violated.   We had truly been robbed this time.  It wasn't a thing, in this instance, that had been taken.  Not a replaceable item but a life.  How much more losing a loved one hurts.  You feel so utterly helpless.    I finally passed out  from sheer exhaustion.  I woke up several times that night.  Each time, remembering was like losing him all over again.  My husband had been so sweet to try and console me, cry with me at times.  He too had lost a beloved friend.  My dad was his pal, his hunting and fishing buddy.  Just days before Daddy spent most of the weekend at our house watching football with Chance while I was away working at the jewelry store.  So difficult to lose both family and friend.   My little boy, Luke, came in our room early that morning.  He too was crying.  He climbed into our bed and fell back to sleep.  Libby would eventually find her way here too. I really didn't want to get up and face the day.  Let me just lie here and keep my loved ones around me and safe.   There was so much left to go through.  Finally my mom came in.   We all needed to get up, people would be coming soon...we had an appointment with the funeral home to keep. She was right...

A Sad Reunion

     I wasn't supposed to find out early.  My Mother was the first, in our family, to be told.  She worked in Valdosta.  A 45 minute ride away.  She worked for her brother at a jewelry store.  The family called and spoke to him first.  My uncle, Chuck, and Daddy had been friends for many years.  He was taken aback at the news.  His task was extremely daunting.  How do you share this kind of information with a loved one?  Married 30+ years, 5 children and a host of memories.  Yes, they were divorced but she still loved him.  How do you say the words when you don't want them to be truth? He shared and Mom responded much the way he expected her to.  They were close, and he was heartbroken for her.  They tarried as long as necessary for my Mom to put herself back together, somewhat, and then she must tell her children.  They mustn't find out in some harsh way.  She went and got my sister Charity from work, told her. They drove to Moultrie and found my brother, Brandon, and told him.  They all then came straight for my house.  I think God had intervened on my part.  My mother had wanted to tell me, she had told my aunt and uncle to wait, not to tell me yet.  If  I hadn't received the phone call, if my aunt had not told my husband, I would have been headed straight for a school full of people who already knew.  I am so thankful,  God chose to intervene.  I would not have done well in front of so many people. In the worst of tragedies, you can see God's hand moving on your behalf, you can see it, if you choose to look.  My mom didn't know I would be headed to the school.  Day in and day out I am here at my home.  Why would I leave? This is where I work, taking care of precious little children.  I never leave. (well, almost never).
     Not long after I received the news, my mom, uncle, sister and brother showed up.  What a sad reunion.   So hard.  They had not heard any details.  Only that he had been shot and killed.  We had heard more by  this point.  We had been told that it was possibly the waitress's jealous ex-husband.  We shared what we knew with the group.  They had not known he had been murdered.  This produced such a violent reaction I decided not to say he had been beaten, too.  No, not yet.  I slipped out to get my husband aside and tell him what I thought.  His response was 'They are going to have to know.' I just told him, not yet.  I am glad that we chose not to share this piece of info.  I really don't know why it made it worse but for me it did.  To be tortured or beaten and then killed.  How horrific.  The mental pictures those things conjure up are unbearable.     You can imagine my gratefulness in learning that it was not true.  Jack, the one who found him, had said that it looked like that.  When the coroner saw him he said it wasn't the case.  He said that a shot-gun wound of that enormity would cause just such an appearance.  The autopsy would confirm his speculation.  I was so thankful.  Hard to imagine being thankful, but I was. He wasn't beaten, he wasn't scared or angry or any kind of negative emotion, when he died.  He was caught off guard and possibly a little surprised.  This was all.  It is hard to explain the relief that brought me.  The news that he had been beaten would still be circulated but not to my family, not this day.
   We all scrambled to get in touch with family in Atlanta,  my other 2 sisters were there and did not know.  We wanted it to be an aunt or uncle or close friend to tell them, in a proper place where they could mourn.  We had trouble getting anyone that could go, in time.  This search would not go for long.  My sister called my phone. Someone else had gotten to her first.  Tia(Charisa) and my other sister Sarah were in a restaurant, at the register ready to order, when they found out.  Charisa  lived, and went to school, at Kennesaw but Sarah had just happened to go up to visit her.  My mom had not wanted Sarah to make the trip.  Sarah hadn't driven on the Interstate much.  Sarah had been determined to go.  We all were thankful, now, she did.  They would be together, not alone, when they grieved.   Unfortunately, they did find out in a public place.  The response from them got a free meal from the staff there, though they couldn't eat it.  They would pack and come home as soon as possible.  We would all be together very soon...
  On the other side, my uncle Mike had been very busy.  After the initial shock of finding out, his mind had begun to work.  He remembered the comments my father had made.  He knew Mr. B had worked with different farmers here and there.  He knew who he was, or at least he knew how to find out who he was, and where to find him.  He was driven to catch the man, who had dared to shoot and kill his baby brother on their own family property.  He worked closely with the investigators and it proved very profitable.  We had a suspect, (the killer) in custody before the end of the day.    
 

Fracture

   This day began as any other for me.  I got up, fed the kids breakfast.   Put them on the bus to school with a promise that I would see them later.  It was the day for Libby's White Christmas play.  She was 'Little Nell'.  Her cousin Hayden was Baby Pat.  I was a little sad already, as I sat there, and watched Hayden do his part and thought about how his Mama should be here.  She wasn't, she would have been, if she could, but she was gone.  She had died in her sleep the year before.  There were, and still are the pangs of missing her.  A mother gone, leaving 3 children, is always a sad thing.  I sat through and enjoyed the play, we took pictures of the kids after.  I had made some video.  I have yet to watch it. This is actually the first time I have posted the above picture.  Not long after, I would leave the school and find out about Daddy.   

I am amazed by how a tragedy occurs.  When you suffer a tear, a fracture.  You have this surreal(at least in my experience) feeling.  Like time slows down and folds in on itself.  I can remember that time clearly, though all around it is a fog.  I can't remember what I had for breakfast that morning, I can't remember who I talked to at the play.  I do remember with precision every moment of that afternoon.  

I got home after the play.  I had promised Libby that I would be back for her party at school.  I went home to feed the children, I keep, lunch.  I like to be there at lunch.  I relieved my friend, who was helping me be able to go to attend the school functions. She took off to go to her work for one more hour.  We ate. (though I don't remember that either) My husband came home for lunch.  He mostly does come home for a noon-day meal , though there are days which he doesn't, especially if he knows it will be hectic.  I am very glad he did.  It was orchestrated for him to. ( I believe that)  Everyone was fed and my friend returned so I could get to the school.  My husband went outside to walk our new dog.  I thought he had left for work.  My phone rang...a dear friend on the other line...he had a question.  He wanted to know if my Uncle, Mike, had be shot.  He said his father had heard it on the scanner and wanted to know.  This bothered me.  I immediately called my Aunt Janet. (my uncle's wife)  She answered.  I asked if everyone was ok.  She paused and said, "Yeah!"   I chuckled, good,  and told her the story of the phone call and asked about my uncle.  I told her first that I hadn't wanted to alarm her but I just wanted to check and make sure he was ok .  She reassured me that he was.  Relieved, I said something about not being able to believe everything you hear on the scanner.  I will always be thankful for her ability to lie this day.  Don't get me wrong...this was not a normal thing for my aunt.  I have never found her to do well with anything but the truth.  She was quick on her feet today and got out a convincible lie.   'Everything is ok, but is your husband home?' I said no. I thought he had left for work.  She took his cell phone number.  She said 'Something is wrong and it is bad, but I need to talk to Chance.' Said it was something about my uncle's company.  This was odd to me.  Why would she need to talk to him about that?  Why couldn't she talk tell me?  From here my mind went into overdrive.  It is in my nature to LOVE a mystery.  I am THAT person you don't want to watch a movie with because I can almost always guess what is really going on.   It is hard to surprise me or catch me off guard.  I have always loved shows like CSI, Cold Case Files, Without a Trace.  My mind just works that way.  It is a challenge to solve it before the investigators do.  Looking back I should have figured it all out faster.  If it were not MY real life, I could have.  I think my brain triggered a safety mechanism.  I think it sucked the truth behind a wall because I really could not know yet.  I think this because I stood there numb for like a second or two. The look on my face must have been odd because my friend said "What?"  I told her part of it and then my husband walked in.  I told him to call my Aunt, gave him what info I could and he found it odd too.  I stood in the kitchen and watched my husband on the phone.  I saw his face as he said 'OH.'  It wasn't an 'OH NO!'  he didn't respond in a way to verbally give it away, he was at one time a grief counselor, he could do this.  I just stood there hand resting on the kitchen chair.  With him still on the phone...I figured it out.  My mind still could not let it be so.  He would have to tell me.  I started to get emotional and my friend ushered the kids out of the kitchen into another room, as my husband got off of the phone.

He would use his 'counseling' voice.  The same voice he used to seek out corrected behavior in our kids,  the exact same voice, he used, to tell my kids when their aunt, his sister, died.  I started our conversation though, " What, what is it?!! I screamed...It is Daddy isn't it?"  

"Yes, He's gone."

He walked over and caught me as I lost it for a little while.

WhYyyyyy?  Whooooo?  all of these thoughts were racing through my mind.  I managed, "Who would do this, who would take my sweet Daddy?" "OH!" " I didn't get to say goodbye." "I didn't even get to say goodbye."

All my life, we had goodbye's.  Daddy was a hard worker.  He worked long hours. He was raised with good manners, he would always tell everyone goodbye.   He would say bye every morning as he left. Peck us with a kiss and he was off.  He would go on fishing trips, same thing.  When I was 20 they all packed up and went on the mission field.  I was proud of them but I would not go with them.  The next 10 years were spent saying long goodbye's. At first, they were gone for very long stretches and didn't have a phone readily available.  I could not call them but would have to wait for calls.  I was used to goodbyes, but then, at least we got to say them.  This was foreign.  This trip would be his longest yet and we didn't get to have a goodbye. 

I finally calmed down enough to get the details.  Work had called, he hadn't shown up.  This was irregular for him.  He always went to work,  sometimes even sick.  If he didn't go in, he would call.  He was old school and his work ethic was very high.  He taught us all to be that way.  His workplace had called my uncle's business.  This was their link.  My uncle had recommended him for the job.  My Aunt Vickie who worked for my uncle(his sister) took the call and immediately called my uncle.  He wasn't at work yet or maybe he had come and left to run errands in town.  He called his foreman, Jack to go out and check on Daddy.  Jack had always been around.  For as long as I could remember, he had always worked for our family.  A great big man with a bigger heart.  He would be the one to find him. 

"Hope, Jack found him on the back porch.  It looked like he had been beaten and then shot."  My mind was reeling.  REALLY?  I remember thinking...REALLY?  Who would have beaten and then shot him? Wouldn't one or the other be enough?  WHYYYY? WHOOO? who could have done this?  They obviously didn't KNOW him.  They didn't know what a kind and gentle person he was.  It would have had to have been more than one person.   My dad would not have stood there and let someone beat him.  What happened?  Who could he have made this angry?  Was it a robbery gone terribly wrong?  WHAT???! 

As the day progressed the story would change but the initial story was so horrible.  I didn't think I could take any more.  So much had happened the past few years.  So many sad details to be added to.  The Bible says that God never gives us more than we can bear.  I felt I was approaching my threshold...      

The day before

Day by day....This is how we are called to live our lives.  Truly even hour by hour...minute by minute.  Live as if there were no tomorrow.  Let tomorrow take care of itself.  My Dad's last day....I have wondered many times what he did.  I know he went to work.  I know he tried to call me.  I know he saw my brother.  Between times I have no idea what he did.  How did he fill that last day?  I think he knew something was coming.  He made the comment to my uncle that morning ' If I go missing, you need to look out for this guy...(Mr. B)'  Why did he make THAT comment?  Did he have a bad feeling that just wouldn't go away?
   What were Mr. B's thoughts this day?  I go to an analogy of a magnifying glass.  These are wonderful inventions.  Some of us use them occasionally.  To look at something more closely, study it.  Some of us use one daily, in our work, reading.  There are so many uses for one but left in the hands of an unattended little boy with  purpose, a magnifying glass can burn and torment many of God's creatures.  If left out in a dry field of grass in the sun, a simple handy object, like a magnifying glass, can create a torrent of fire.  You would not figure such an unassuming object could cause destruction.  Fixation, of any sort, can also destroy.  I think God had given Mr. B an out.  Let him come close to killing, but not be able to, just so he could think about what he was doing.  So that maybe he could have time to ponder the damage it would do.  Not only to our family, but to himself and to his own.  Obsession kept him from making that connection.  I am quite sure he thought of little else but what went wrong that morning and how he would correct it the following day.   I have thought of him as Gollum in the movie "The Lord of the Rings".  How he was driven to do anything to stay 'near' the ring, 'The Precious'.  In the movie, we never see what he looked like before his encounter with the object of his obsession. His hands and feet suggest that he was possibly a hobbit there are even suggestions that elude to that possibility.  What he depicts is an ugly, tormented, twisted soul, the product what fixation can do to a living being.  The things one will stoop to, to obtain.   How demented our souls can become when we seek after(obsess over) a thing, or person, as we are supposed to seek after our God.  We are asked to seek first God's kingdom and then expect His blessings and plans for our lives.  Was he ever told about that?  I am sure, if he was, he didn't listen.

   My Dad spent the evening at my brothers home.  He was on his couch, playing with his grandson, Brennon. He probably watched some TV as he dozed.  He liked to do that.  Spend time with us in our normal, everyday lives.  He loved his family, loved being with us.  I never heard my Dad say that he needed 'alone time' ( though I need it often and rate it highly).  He was content to do whatever we were doing.  He often invited himself to suppers, our outings, or he would just show up and 'be' with us.  I miss that.
   Anyway, there  has been speculation over my father's whereabouts this particular evening.  LET me dispel that now.  I will be clear.  HE WAS NOT at a diner having a fisticuffs with ANYONE.  There might have been someone in a diner, somewhere that evening, with a similar story, but it wasn't MY father.  I love living in a smaller city.  People are so friendly and nice.  I do not love, though, how some of them take gossip put it together with more gossip and run the story as if they missed their calling as a writer at the Daily Bugle.  I guess they think they are doing the world a favor passing along info, when in point of fact, they are hurting the people and the families of the people they reference.  My Dad spent the evening in a living room, at my brother's home.  He left and went to his home and went to bed.
   As my father's evening was ending, Mr. B's was just beginning.  He drove out to my Dad's, (not sure what time) parked closer, got a chair from the porch, placed it in the garage, sat and waited.
  

The week before...4

Envy and Jealousy, these are emotions which affect us all.  Like most feelings, they can obtain a little of us or they can consume us. Most of us joke about being envious or jealous in a way of bragging about another person's situation.  In the Bible, God says He is 'a jealous God'.  This basically means He will put up with nothing that comes in His place. I have heard Oprah and others try to write that off,  saying that it is 'ugly' for our God to be jealous over us.  He  is the only one that can truly be jealous but not sin. His is a pure jealousy. He wants what is best for us. He knows that if we put Him first in our lives then 'all other things will come' in time and, if He is truly first, then we won't be obsessed or worry about those 'things' we don't have. There is a God sized hole in us all.  Nothing else can fill the void but Him.  People try to fill it with a mass of other things, perishable things and relationships.  They never wind up fulfilled.
     It has been called the 'green eyed monster'.  Hadn't really thought about it before but when you covet,  want what someone else has, it begins with seeing something.  I guess people who are blind can be envious but I bet that those of us who see covet things a lot more.  Our eyes are able to see all that glitters and glints to us. This is not the pure jealousy of God or the joking envy of friends.  The 'green eyed monster' had taken hold in Mr. B.'s heart.  He was consumed with jealousy over this waitress and whatever it was he thought was her relationship with my father. In his confession, he wrote that Wednesday night...the night of his failure with the cabbages...he made up his mind.   He knew that as long as my dad was around, he would get nowhere with the waitress.  What he didn't know was he would have gotten nowhere anyway.  For us to understand this we have to go back.  Not into the waitress's history but into his own.
    I don't really know anything about his upbringing.  We have 'heard' ideas but small town America gives you a plethora of 'things they know' but few are facts.  I know that he hadn't managed to be married or rather stay married..not sure which.  He was kind of quiet. He had been arrested for standing in the top of the barn on his home place and exposing himself to the school children in the playground across the road.  He had also stalked a married woman and flashed her, earning himself a restraining order and the nickname 'Flash'.  Other words used to describe him were, awkward, different, strange.  We all know people like this.  People who we don't understand, people we keep our distance from because they are foreign to us.  Generally this is a natural response, one of safety.   No one that knew him and called him by name (or nickname) would ever expect all that came next.
     Mr. B left the diner that night.  It was evident to him that his 'relationship' with the waitress was declining.  It couldn't have been anything he had done, in his mind.  He had only been good to her.  There had to be another reason she was more distant.  He had his own ideas as to what it was.  He drove out toward my dad's house again.  It was late.  Dad was in the bed.  He parked along the lane.  Maybe he sat in his truck and pondered his thoughts, or maybe he had reached our land with determination and acted immediately.  I don't really know if he carried a gun in his truck or if he had to stop by his house to get it.  By his confession, he took his gun and walked down the lane to the house.  He picked a place in the back of our house.  We have an above ground pool back there.  He hid behind it and waited....
    I have used the word 'our' in reference to the property a lot.  Let me be clear.  Dad lived alone.  He lived in the house I grew up in.  The property is located in family land.  My dad grew up on this land also. He had lived here pretty peaceably with all around him.  He felt safe here.  He had traveled far and lived other places but this was home.  This was where we all lived or found a refuge when needed.  My dad still left his car doors unlocked at times and I grew up that way.   We seldom locked anything unless we were leaving for a long period of time.  He had started locking the house at night, though, I am sure there were times he went to bed and forgot to lock up.  He would always secure the house when he left,  but what did he have to worry about as long as he was there to watch out for everything?  He had made no real enemies or so he thought.
     Dawn comes late at this time of the year.  Many of us are up for hours before the sun casts it's first rays.  It generally comes up at 7:00 or after.  My dad had to be at work by then.  He woke up this morning.  He was unaware of the man sleeping behind our pool.  He got ready, maybe he had his coffee that morning maybe not.  He was running late.   Daddy was an active individual.  My Grandmother has stated that he has always been that way.  Full of energy.  He went and did everything with a purpose and at a good clip.  When he was running late his pace would quicken.  Mr. B. was startled awake when he heard the slam of the door.  My dad was off to work. I can imagine his heart raced as he fumbled with the gun.  As he stood up ready to take aim, my dad disappeared around a corner. In the dark, he had not accounted for the porch railing or that he would not have a  clear shot from this position.  My dad was safe, for now.  He got into his car and pulled away not knowing how near he was to death.  Did he sense it? Did he toss it away as being cold?  He drove down our lane and if he had not sensed Mr. B's presence then, he did now for there was his truck. That same truck from the night before.  The truck of that odd guy... but what was it doing here(?) and where was he?  His truck sat there empty.   At this point, Daddy was alarmed.  He was running late for work so he picked up his cell phone and called his brother.  My uncle owns a company adjoining the family land.  He would be into work soon.  Dad called him and told him to 'keep an eye out' for this fellow.  He told my uncle of the visit  Tuesday night and  about the truck sitting on our property.  This would all prove profitable information. When  my Uncle would get to work there would be no sign of Mr. B....

The week before...3

Wednesday, Church night....Daddy always went to church on Wednesday nights.  He was a member of the band at church.  He would go, eat dinner before, at church, and then attend the service, and  go home to bed.  He tried to get into bed at a decent hour because he had to be at work at 7:00 in Tifton. (a 35 min drive from home).
     While Daddy was in church, the waitress was working. (or maybe her shift started after church, again a few of the minor details aren't known to me.) The man who followed my Daddy home the night before...we'll call him Mr. B....came back to the diner.  He was proudly carting cabbages.  A present for the waitress.  I really don't know what he expected from her.  Maybe, to him, these cabbages deserved the praise of roses.  Cabbages can be pretty, all growing out in a field, with rows and rows of pretty leaves opening to the sun.  When picked, they quickly lose any beauty they had.  Cabbages are also an odd gift.  Some people do not even like cabbage.  He had probably brought cabbages home to his mother, with warm reception, in the past. I can imagine the look on the waitress's face as she accepted her gift.  You see, he had given her a very big tip before.  She had accepted it, not thinking, because she had been praying for money to buy presents for her children for Christmas.  Later she had been reprimanded and reminded of what a man might expect to come from such a large tip.  She had not thought of that. It was too late now.  Here he was again, this time bestowing cabbages.  What did this man want from her?  What did he expect?
  I have been told, on numerous occasions, that what I am thinking is often very legible on my face.  I think that is the case of this waitress.  Maybe she wasn't normally very readable but when Mr. B came, bearing his gifts, he looked into her face.  He was expecting to find the reception he received when he gave her the tip.  He expected to see the look she gave my father over the Christmas cookies.  He did not like this cool, guarded gaze reflecting in her eyes.  He had seen this look before.  One too many times....

The week before...2

   Ok so where was I....oh yes... He said good-bye and  left our house.  From here some of this is speculation.  Times and days are guestimations but what I know is what happened.  Either that night or the next...( If he was at my house on a Monday, then it was the next, but if he was here Tuesday, then that night.) Tuesday night, Daddy went to his favorite place, Walmart, and purchased some Christmas cookies.  His comment "Christmas cookies, that is a good idea."  came back to me as the story unfolded to us.  He took them around the corner to a diner. A waitress worked there.  A girl from his church, in a halfway house at the church.  He had met her there and felt bad for her situation.  She and another girl from the halfway house had come to his house to clean for him once.  They had come and put up the Christmas tree for him another time.  He would pay them. It was Christmas and they were trying to earn a little extra money.  He took her the cookies.  Probably got a cup of coffee and hung around awhile.  He liked public places and being with people. (thus his like for Walmart, where most others despise a trip there)  Little did he know, another man was there...watching him. Watching his interaction with the waitress and the others there.
   Daddy was a man, everywhere he went, who usually brought light.  He would joke, 'pick', have something interesting to say.  Upbeat was an understatement.  His timing was triplicate mostly.  You didn't have to know him well to know if he was sick or sad.  The person watching him was opposite that.  Let's just say his beat was off.  His jealousy, while normal, (jealousy is a normal human emotion) was extreme.  I am not sure if Daddy knew that this man had given the waitress a large tip. I am not sure if he knew of the man's feeble attempts at flirting with her.  I don't know if the girl had shared that with my dad or only with her pastor.  I do know the man had an obsession and when Daddy left the diner that night he was followed.
   Daddy arrived home...it was night ...he probably looked up the lane and saw headlights.  Wondered who was coming to see him. Our lane there is such, if you were driving down it, you were coming to see us.  You don't just happen upon our house.  A truck drove up, one he didn't recognize.  Maybe the man got out, maybe he talked to Dad from his open window.  I do know they had a conversation and that Dad found it odd.  From the other party's accounts, they talked about everything BUT the waitress.   I guess Dad realized that he had followed him from the diner, maybe not.  I don't know how long they talked but it ended with Daddy going back inside and the man driving away.  I speculate that he made a stop by the field of cabbages next to our house.  He may not have.  There were three or four missing in a row as you go out...I know, I looked....