Hey, Daddy

Daddy teaching us a song.

I am not sure why I feel the need to share my “daddy visit” stories. Maybe I am looking for validation that this is not just “a dream”, is real. Daddy always believed in messages from those who had passed- especially from his own mama and daddy. I in fact have a video of daddy telling the story of his own daddy’s visit to him a day after his (daddy’s) death. I fully believe it. I use to say “daddy, please visit me and give me signs after you die”. He knew I believed in it. So maybe it is only right for me to be the one to get the visits. I know my sisters get signs- Cathy always gets excited when she has a “daddy dream” too. So…..

Keep in mind these are not like “normal” dreams. In these moments you are fully aware its a “dream” but different. The people are clear- not fuzzy and they don’t turn into someone or something else. Last night (in my dream) I had driven daddy’s old white Ford 150 down to the “big house’ (not prison! it’s what everyone calls the original home place on the farm). On my way back I met another truck driving towards the big house. Whoever it was had his window rolled down and threw up his hand in a wave. I rolled down my own window and looked face-to-face with my daddy. {insert tearing up here}. Daddy was wearing one of his many caps slightly crooked as always. It was the “old” daddy- the one that was strong and lively. He had a big smile on his face. I stared in shock, wonder, and really, complete happiness. It was all so clear. I reached out to touch him and he “took hold” of my hand. We sat there- truck to truck and in that hand shake hold. I said, “is this real?” “Nobody’s gonna believe I am talking to you”. He said, “don’t matter what anybody else think”. I just kept saying, “I’m so happy to see you, I’m so happy to see you!” I could feel his hand in mine- solid. Daddy’s big hand. After a bit I let go of his hand. Daddy drove on down the road- still smiling. The healthy, happy daddy I once knew…..thanks daddy. Please come back soon.

Daddy throwing tobacco and me playing!

Daddy didn’t feel good here- but he rarely turned down a photo op. Here with my daughter- Ashley

Me and daddy during his best days.
The little Hamlett girls. We miss you daddy. Mama is holding down the fort like the champ she has always been.

Author: Linda Hamlett Childress

Growing up on a tobacco farm in the 70's gave me a strong work ethic that I sometimes resent! My list of things I've learned and done is long (farming; dentistry; makeup; crafting; sewing; gardening; writing; painting) and it's time to share with you. Join me on my blogging adventures!!

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