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A Playful Wink from Daddy

I stood over the mound of dirt with a can of polish in hand, and tried to hide the pain reeling through my chest. I put on a fake grin and added a nervous, shallow, giggle every now and then to disguise my inner disappointment. I didn't want to upset Momma or my sisters, but preparing Daddy's grave for the cemetery's memorial celebration was breaking my heart.
It was one of my jobs to polish the black and gold headstone that listed his name and years of service to the army, as well as, his birth and death. I rubbed polish on his name over and over, never feeling like it was shiny enough.

The sound of the weed-eater was a welcome racket that jolted me into reality as my sister cleaned the weeds from around the grave's boarder. Momma placed the flowers on top after all the clean-up was finished. I stood there hoping they would hurry to the car for a quick exit before I lost control of the tears that I had held at bay all morning.
We decided to go see our old home place in Brushy Ridge, Oklahoma before we drove back to our homes in Arkansas. I drove the car filled with my Momma and three sisters down the dirt road and up to the old, rock, school house that we called home years before.

Daddy had passed away years ago when I was only eight. One would think I could handle the hurt a little more maturely now, as a grown woman with a child of her own, but I still missed him terribly and wanted to lay eyes on him so bad it hurt.
I held my breath, as we walked through the unkempt yard and reminisced about old times. I tried to keep a smile, but it was getting harder as I witnessed the abandoned state of the old home that I had preserved so well in my mind. I felt like another part of Daddy and his life was slipping away with the crumbling of the house.
We finally left for home, and I dropped each family member off at their homes before I was finally alone to let go of all the tears that had tortured me all day. I cried for the first few minutes, and then I started to talk to God. I told him how I just wanted to see Daddy in the yard working on a greasy motor, like he used to do, when I was a child. I told God that I missed seeing his tall physic slowly saunter pass the porch. I sobbed while I explained that I ached to smell the diesel and gasoline odor that was unique to my Daddy after a work day. I missed his self-assured attitude and love of country life. I wanted to feel his long arms around me and my head buried

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