One of my fondest memories of Dad was one morning early in July when I was 10. He came into my bedroom and plopped a boot box on the bed and told me to get up and get dressed. I was coming with him to drive tractor. I’m not sure I would call it driving as I look back at it. It was more like steering. He would drive to the field, get the tractor lined up the way he wanted and put it in gear, then jump down and stack hay on the hay boat. All I had to do was drive between the rows of bales. That was until we got to the end of the row and that was an entirely different proposition. That was the start of summers of hay dust, plugged machinery, and a lot of wonderful experiences.
I knew Dad had made the ultimate sacrifice when he came to watch Three Forks 1st girls’ basketball team play in White Sulfur Springs when I was a junior. We played girls’ rules and were less than proficient to say the least. However, this didn’t dampen his love of sports, He has sat through countless ball games. He has watched all of his children, his grandchildren, and a couple of great grand children over the years. And when you get home, he will tell you there isn’t a football or basketball coach out there who knows a thing about the game. He will continue to watch over his family, he just won’t have to sit on a hard, cold bleacher anymore.
Family has always been important to Dad. When Zac was born, he and Mom came to the hospital, all proud as punch, the 1st grandchild and all, but they had to be on their way because Dad’s mother, Grandma Scoffield was turning 90 the next day and his sisters were having a party and he was going to be there.
Every Christmas morning, you knew that Dad would show up shortly to find out what Santa had brought, make sure it was up to snuff and see if there was anything he could use.
He loved watching his family grow up.
We often don’t recognize the heroes in our lives until they are gone. Then we realize that there are some pretty big shoes waiting for us. I know I can’t fill those shoes, but what I do know is I can find my own way to make a difference in the lives of those we come in contact with each and everyday.
In the infinite wisdom of my youth, I thought the choices I made only affected me. Even when I got a bit older I didn’t understand how far-reaching my actions would be on those I love and come in contact with, but as I have watched Dad live and work in this community, surrounded by family and friends, I have come to appreciate how much of an impact we all can have if we look beyond ourselves and reach out.
The real question here is how many milk shakes did he buy to pay off all those bets on report cards. As much as he loved sports, he knew that learning and knowledge would be the key to the success of those young people’s lives.
I’d like to close by reading a poem.
Miss Me – But Let Me Go
When I come to the end of the road
And the sun has set on me,
I want no rites in a gloom filled room,
Why cry for a soul set free.
Miss me a little-but not too long,
And not with your head bowed low,
Remember the love that we share,
Miss me-but let me go.
For this is a journey that we all must take,
And each must go alone.
It’s all a part of the Master’s plan,
A step on the road to home.
When you are lonely and sick of heart,
Go to the friends we know.
And bury your sorrows in doing good deeds,
Miss me-but let me go.
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