(Born in Dawson Springs, Kentucky)
October 2, 1939 - July 17, 2026
My Dad trying to teach me to ride a bike. He wore out his legs from holding the back and moving like crazy to keep up. He knew I was afraid I would fall.
I remember…
Sunday afternoon car rides, just to sight-see, and of course we got ICE CREAM .
I remember…
Those times that I would stand on his feet and we would dance around the floor. No music, just whatever song was in my Dad’s head.
I remember…
Watching my Dad sit in his chair reading anything he could get his hands on. In turn passing on his lifelong love of reading.
I remember…
He painted freehand, no stencils, my and my brother’s bedrooms. My brother’s was cowboys and Indians, racing down a hillside. Mine was decorated with the old nursery rhymes.
My Dad was a strong man who cared deeply for his family. We were his priority and he made sure that we never worried about anything. My brother and I enjoyed a carefree childhood.
Dad loved to tell stories. It didn’t matter who you were, there was a story coming your way, but it was up to you to decide whether it was made up or not. There was a tip-off, though. If he made it up, he would start chuckling and try to tell you the end of the story.
Now that my time for making memories with my dad is over, I can look fondly at all the things he taught and instilled in me. First and foremost was to always be honest in all that you do as well as my avid love of reading. And most of all, my love for desserts of all kinds.
There are not enough words in this whole, entire world to tell you what my Dad means to me and how much I love him.
I will forever be proud to be called Dural and Pat’s daughter.
Because of you Dad, I can stand tall and be thankful for the sweet heritage you have given to me
Some day soon, we will meet again.
