...one week ago today, I said good-bye to my Dad. He was 89. God, I loved him. He was so strong, smart, loyal and loving. My Dad was born in 1920 in Ford's, NJ, in a basement on a cold winter's night. His father owned a little grocery store. He was the eldest of 3 children.
He was a superstar in high school, drum major of the marching band, excelled at many musical instruments and in art as well. Our Nana, his mom, used to tell us what a flirt he was. And boy, was he handsome - like Errol Flynn.
He was a Marine in World War II and in the Korean War as well. His stories were infamous and made us laugh. He wedded my mom in 1946 and they stayed married for 63 years. He was a Labor Relations Negotiator before there was such a thing and would tell us stories of Jimmy Hoffa and late nights in Baton Rouge. He knew every good restaurant in the country because he traveled so much, meeting with boilermakers, electricians, masons, steel workers - you name it. He worked as a consultant until he was in his 70's.
When Dad turned 80, he and Mom moved here to Texas to play golf year round and to be closer to us - their 3 girls and their grandchildren. I am so grateful that he got to see the twins and especially his namesake: Credence Paul Chovan Voyles. They called him PopPop and he loved them so.
I saw my Dad again at the funeral home on Tuesday. We had to identify the body before he was sent off to be cremated. He was so cold, so still. I hugged him and didn't want to let go. I still don't...