1949-2007

This is from my past. Taken in the first house I remember living in...in Cool Ridge, West Virginia. I was playing with a dyed mop head made into a pom-pom (I don't know how to spell that.)

I'm the little girl. I am sitting with an old family friend, Danny. He's been a friend since before I can remember--always there, working for my dad and visiting. Eating my mom's lasagna and raving about how amazing it was. Always encouraging me to drink milk so I can run fast, fast, fast. Whenever he'd come over, I would grab some milk and drink it really quickly and run past him again and again and he'd always pretend not to catch me until finally I was tired and slow and he'd catch me and lift me up. He'd tell me he was going to put a brick on my head so I couldn't grow so quickly. I remember him dating and falling in love and introducing me to his step-daughter. I spent weekend after weekend at their house, feeding bunnies and playing with crazy dogs. We ate corn that he grew. I played Barbie, talked about boys, and read Ann Frank in his house. I got bitten by his dog and he was so afraid that he would get fired or sued or both for it. The dog only bit me because she was excited about those silly forth of July "poppers" --at least that's what I called them. He doctored me up and asked me not to tell my dad unless it really did hurt. He gelded (is that the right word?) our horse when we had horses out in Cool Ridge; I don't think he did it correctly, hah. He always had funny shirts about being bald and too sexy for his hair and things like that --shirts you find (and we were usually the ones that got them for him) in Nashville and Gatlinburg and Myrtle Beach souvenir stores.

Danny lived with his mother in her house after moving from his apartment in Beckley. She was in a coma for ten years and he took care of her constantly until she passed.

Danny had a heart attack last week and then an allergic reaction to a dye they used and went into a coma. He died on Thursday.

I called my mom on Friday to tell her I made it home from Atlanta safely. "I guess I should tell you about Danny." I knew it was coming, but I didn't want to know. I asked if he was still in a coma like I was a child. And she couldn't say it and I just cried in the middle of a shoe store in the mall on a cell phone.

I take people for granted. Every time I think of Danny, I think of him this way. In this photo. And of the way he looked when he took me trick-or-treating and dressed up as a farmer even though he was already a farmer. I take so many people for granted. He was such a big part of my life.

I don't believe in funerals. if you'd like to know, you can ask me; I don't feel the need to explain it here. I was going to pay my respects by getting some milk to drink in the cemetery after the funeral ended, but I just couldn't. Maybe next week.

My dad is working too hard now without him. He misses him despite hardships they've had in the past year. He will not sleep well and he's going to find a hard time finding someone to do the job Danny did. This is such a big loss on so many levels. His wife, his poor wife. And grandkids. And step-daughters.

I feel like I've swallowed a cantaloupe.

But isn't he radiant?

These photos were taken sometime in the late eighties.