SIX: The tomatoes have been good this year

Dear Daddy:

The tomatoes have been good - no great - this season. Thank you for giving me your green thumb.

I planted four Better Boy plants on Good Friday, and by the end of June, those spring blooms had turned to ripe tomatoes. Vicki and I have enjoyed four loaves of bread worth of bacon, lettuce, and tomato sandwiches, and simple tomato sandwiches. I have made tomato sauce over cheese tortellini twice. I made tomato pie on two occasions - both times as a side dish to thick "ribeye" pork chops. I have given away tomatoes to my neighbors, to my friends, and even gave permission to some just to come by and pick one as needed. Daddy, when I tell you those four tomato plants have yielded an unbelievable harvest it is no understatement. And, about now I can hear you say . . .

"Huh, Well, that's great. Did you just pick one off the vine and eat it right there?" 

Yes, I did that, too. No, I didn't wash it. 

The tomato patch has not been this fruit-bearing since 2014 - the summer that you left us. I'm writing because this week is the anniversary of your birth and the anniversary of your death - separated by two dates and 76 years on the calendar.

The success of the tomato harvest this year, compared to the equally great one in 2014, has caused me to think more and more of you as I visit the patch each morning and night. I miss you. I miss talking to you about building projects, landscaping, family history, the stupidity of people, the Western plains, and the history books we read together. Mostly, though, I would have liked to talk to you about this tomato harvest and the bunny that took residence there.

When I went to prepare the garden, I noticed a burrow. The mama had left some of her fur on the outside so that she could find it. I checked to make sure the babies had moved on and they had, so I prepared the garden. As the plants grew, I went out to inspect one morning and saw a bunny staring up at me from the middle of them. It was the funniest thing.

What's more, that bunny has stayed around. It lives in the center of my tomato plants, and it comes out to visit in the mornings and the evenings. I have regularly chopped broccoli and carrots and left those raw vegetables out there as food. As I did that, I could absolutely imagine you doing the exact same thing. You would have positioned a chair just about dusk to watch Bunny make an appearance.

I did that, too.

And, I thought of you. 

Your grandchildren are all well. A lot has happened in these six years. Andrew, William, Matthew, and Jacob all got married. Andrew became a medical doctor; Jessica is closing in on becoming one, too. William started his own performing arts company and wrote and produced a play about Papa R.C., which you would have appreciated. William is working on a Master's Degree. Paul works in accounting for a Nashville hospital, and Richard sees him more than anyone. Richard is now an attorney . . . in Memphis. I remember the story of when you and mama went the cheap route on a Memphis motel and regretted it. Jacob is in the Air Force, and just like his daddy is now a pilot. Matthew is a civil engineer, and I swear Daddy, he thinks and acts a lot like you. He can build anything. Emilee is entering second grade, reading, thinking - smart as a whip. You have a great-granddaughter, Clara, and she's now one and walking.

We talk about you a lot; we remember well. There's not a fiber in my being that would take you from where you are now and return you here. I know you are soaking up all that heaven has to offer, and you are in love with it. And, we know without a doubt that you are there and thankfully we will see you again "just over there."

I will continue to plant tomatoes each year, Daddy, and while enjoying them I will give thanks for your place in our lives. You weren't the perfect daddy, but you were absolutely perfect for us.

~ Scott