In Memory Of Steve Lewis Arrowood

Today marks, your 4th anniversary of entering Heaven.

May angels surround you and may you know a wonderful peace.

Tell Grandma and Grandpa that I send my love.

I miss you more than ever.

I continue my search into the family tree and went

back home to Roan Mountain last week.

I hope you were there alongside me as I visited the graves of

our family of long ago.

I continue the search you asked me to do, Dad.

In your honor~

*******

HAPPY FATHER'S DAY, DAD!

you are missed everyday.

I think of you all the time and send you my love.

Thanks for all you were to me.

My friend, my mentor and my confidante.

I love you.

 *******

October 3, 2011~

HAPPY BIRTHDAY, DAD!

Today would have been your 79th.

I hope the angels helped you celebrate up in Heaven.

Missing you so....

I have things that I want to talk to you about and things I want to tell you, so I send my thoughts heavenward and smile when I think of you....

God took the strength of a mountain,
The majesty of a tree,
The warmth of a summer sun,
The calm of a quiet sea,
The generous soul of nature,
The comforting arm of night,
The wisdom of the ages,
The power of the eagle's flight,
The joy of a morning in spring,
The faith of a mustard seed,
The patience of eternity,
The depth of a family need,
Then God combined these qualities,
When there was nothing more to add,
He knew His masterpiece was complete,
And so, He called it ... "DAD!"

...Author Unknown

****************************

Today marks two years without you here.

In a way it seems forever since I have talked to you and in another way, it seems like yesterday.

I miss your smiles and love that you always gave to me.

*********

The Dash Poem

by Linda Ellis

I read of a man who stood to speak
At the funeral of a friend
He referred to the dates on her tombstone
From the beginning to the end.

He noted that first came the date of her birth
And spoke the following date with tears,
But he said what mattered most of all
Was the dash between those years.

For that dash represents all the time
That she spent alive on earth.
And now only those who loved her
Know what that little line is worth.

For it matters not how much we own;
The cars, the house, the cash,
What matters is how we live and love
And how we spend our dash.

So think about this long and hard.
Are there things you'd like to change?
For you never know how much time is left,
That can still be rearranged.

If we could just slow down enough
To consider what's true and real
And always try to understand
The way other people feel.

And be less quick to anger,
And show appreciation more
And love the people in our lives
Like we've never loved before.

If we treat each other with respect,
And more often wear a smile
Remembering that this special dash
Might only last a little while.

So, when your eulogy is being read
With your life's actions to rehash
Would you be proud of the things they say
About how you spent your dash?

I am so glad that you lived your 'dash' to the

fullest and danced like no one was watching.

You enjoyed life and were a joy to others,

around you.

You were an inspiration to us all.

May the Angels in Heaven watch you dancing, still.

I love you and miss you, Dad.

My Dad loved to grow things.

He loved to plant and watch things grow from tiny seeds.
He planted a garden each and every spring. I walked behind him as he laid out the rows, always straight, amazingly straight. We planted sweet potato slips in the silky powdery loam in the garden beside my grandparent’s house one year. We worked nearly all day, preparing the soil and carefully placing the tender slips. I remember my toes were blackened with the soil of countless trips up and down those rows.

Not to mention the granny necklaces that were forming, ring after ring, on my neck. I was a kid and dirt did not matter much. Strangely enough, I still do not mind it. I would happily shuck my nice “work” high heeled shoes and nylons for an afternoon in the soft, cool , earth of a newly plowed garden.

My Dad passed that love on to me and I am so grateful.

I get this hankering to plant some seeds and start digging when the weather begins to turn warmer. The smell inside of my little greenhouse is like a tonic to me. I breathe deep, filling my lungs upon entering it. The smell of the earth is so satisfying to me.

Russ’ son, Chance, once got a Christmas present from his Dad that really wasn't what he wanted, but the gift was filled with love from his father. I was trying to explain that his Dad meant well with the gift, and I asked Chance , “Well, take me for instance, now what in the world would you give me, that you are absolutely sure I would want?”. Chance answered me without skipping a beat, “Why of course, I would get you some SEEDS!”

Out of the mouth of a babe….that realization struck me soundly.. He was so RIGHT! Seeds are perfect for me. Perfect for me and my Dad. Dad would pull up something interesting or find a nice plant at an abandoned house, left on a windowsill and to me, it would promptly come. Pieces of cactus’ or a cutting, whatever it was, it was welcome, and Dad knew that.

That is why the Maypops are so special to me. Maypops and the story that Dad taught me.
We would scour the ditches at our river cabin for those wonderful smelling flowers. Always bringing a smile to my Dad’s face, I would come clutching one in my small chubby fist. Holding it up for Daddy to see.

I planted my garden this spring, scaled back from the garden’s of yesteryear, but special to me, just the same.
George, My Dad in law, (my other Dad) loved to garden too, and we planted way too many tomato plants each and every year. But it was so much fun. Something we did together. Every year I would watch with anticipation , that first red, ripe, tomato and every year it would simply disappear one day while I was not looking.
George got it . And that was fine.. It still makes me smile to think of it. Grin. Tomato snitcher right in my own back yard. Grin.

I grow things out of love. Love that was instilled in me from the time I could walk.
That love was shown to me as I walked behind the plow, dropping the seeds into the soft earth, with tiny fingers, carefully counting out how many.

Merry Christmas, Dad!

May Angels surround you this Christmas, and hold you safe.

Sending you much love and a sprig of Mistletoe up to Heaven.

Every year Dad would find some mistletoe. He would spy it high up in the trees growing in the spring, keeping it mindful where it was for later, near Christmas time.

He would bring it to me, wanting me to tie red bows on it so he could have fun giving it out.

He told me where a small tree was that had a large branch of mistletoe growing, but well within easy reach.

Yesterday I went to that tree and plucked a piece of mistletoe for my Dad.

I also got another piece to hang in the house and one , special piece to give away.

In honor of Dad.

I also went and got milk and bread with today's threat of white winter weather.  We got a little snow and sleet.

But we had to have milk and bread..

That was just Dad's way of taking care of us.

It is easier to smile when I think of you now, Dad.

Smile and remember, maybe grin over something comical.

You are never far from us in our hearts and thoughts.

Much Love, Martha

Christmas just isn't the same without you.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY, DAD!

You are very missed.

10-03-1932

"It is the loss of the laughter, the love, and connections

past, present, and future which we mourn."

July 20, 2009

One Year Passed

"Give sorrow words; the grief that does not speak knits up the o'er-wrought

heart and bids it break." -- William Shakespeare

God shall wipe all tears from their eyes; and there shall be no more death,

nor crying, neither shall there be any more pain: for the former things are

 passed away.    -  Revelation 21:4