I've been very lucky in my lifetime to not lose any close family members. That changed this morning.

I've spent a majority of the morning wiping my eyes and blowing my nose. I don't know how to deal with this, so I'm turning to what has helped me in every other difficult situation I've been in - writing.

My Papa wasn't an easy man to get along with. In fact, sometimes I wondered if we argued more than actually talked. But there are a lot of good things I'll remember about the 26 years we spent together.

"I'm as old as my tongue and a little older than my teeth."

You were full of wise cracks. Even when you reached that stage where you were doing good just to catch your breath, you'd never miss an opportunity to throw one of those sayings I'll always associate with you into a conversation.

You taught me how to whistle, albeit not very well and never as good as you. And to this day I still wish I could wiggle my ears like you could.

Remember that time you leaned too far back in your chair at the kitchen table just to prove to Mema that you could and flipped it over?

Little red caboose,
little red caboose,
little red caboose behind the train.
Smokestack on its back,
coming 'round the track,
little red caboose behind the train.

That's still one of my favorite children's songs. I still like playing checkers, and riding through cotton fields -- but I don't think I've climbed up in a cotton trailer since the last time I did it with you.

There are too many memories for this blog, so for now I'll just leave it at this:

See ya later alligator.