Ever since I was a little girl I can remember my father always saying, “puuuuuuriiiiiize”. I hit the 10th floor today and found myself smacking the buzzer and waiting for the doors to unlock.
There he was, my father, about to eat his lunch. He had no idea I was standing in the doorway. I found myself uttering Mr…. Puuuuuuriiiize. I was a little tight in the chest because I was forbidden to visit. I was told not to come there. I was told not to bother. How does a daughter ‘not bother’?
He was happy. I was elated. I’ve decided not to share intimate details of our conversations we had the 3 and 1/2 hours I was there. However I can say that he made me exercise, he explained what North North West meant, pointed out the Capitol to me, explained which lady in the lunch room was the most annoying and introduced me to every one of the nurses. I felt special yet felt my heart hurting. My father’s nurse Lisa told me that I seemed to be at ease to her. She said I looked at peace there. She asked me what I did for a living and then said, well there’s still time to change that. My heart started lifting back to its proper position after that. Lisa is intuitive.
As I was leaving, dad had me write this down. On his gravesite monument he wants etched the words, ‘Whiskey for my men, beer for my horses’. My father loves that Toby Keith.