yesterday - 7 years - hardly seemed possible when it happened - still painful when thought about - dwelled on - she was born in artesia california - 1929 - when i think about her - i think what she must have been like then - in the land of make believe - and palm trees - i have a photo of her with nannie - her mother - who was just a child herself - unsure steps -

i know the woman momma became - the one who taught us to play games of hide-n-seek when the electric company came and turned off the lights - games of make believe when the old television didn't work and games of 'when i grow up' when daddy stayed out drinking too late - she liked pretty things - and strong men - she loved children and good friends - i remember many things about her and miss her terribly - but one thing that sticks in my mind and i am not sure when i noticed this about her - but, when the food was scarce, she would suddenly be the one who wasn't very hungry - letting us kids eat first - i remember crying one time because she wouldn't eat and her sitting with me and sharing my plate of macaroni and cheese and how honored i felt -

when daddy died - rod and i lived in dallas - after the funeral we came back to dallas and i spent the next few days working on a tribute to him - i wrote a poem, created a shadow box with things that reminded me of him and a collage of photos - long story short - when momma died - i expected i would do the same for her - i just couldn't and still can't - that's a room i can't enter - right now.

i remember a conversation she and i had one afternoon over the phone - after we had to place her in the nursing home - when conversation would turn to her dying, she would say she was going to die and i would say no you aren't. and she would say - one day - and i would say - one day is a long way off. she paused and said toe - the way she did when she wanted me to listen or do something for her - i hoped she would say toe - i saw a pretty doll in the gift shop downstairs today - instead, she said that she knew i didn't want her to die and that she knew i loved her but when the time came - she said she wanted me to accept it. i will. i said - my throat choked up - she said she would still be around and whenever i needed to talk to her - to just close my eyes and know that she was in my heart and she was listening - somehow i croaked out - how - my roses - you'll smell my roses -

i am smellin the roses today, momma -
i love you.

emma jean moulder rash - momma - jan 6, 1929 - april 24, 2001

daddy would be 79 today - i never heard or knew where he was born - at least i don't remember - i suppose he was born right here in the town he grew up in - he took joy in being born on april fools day and loved playing practical jokes on you - especially if you were a kid - he loved to hear kids laugh -

i know he was what i have come to know as Texas - through and through - gentle and strong at the same time - compassionate when he needed to be and stern when deserved. i miss him more than i imagined i would as a child - those times when a boy feels his father would rather have someone else as a son - do all boys feel this - i never knew - conversations with his friends i overheard - he would often refer to bubba as his son and me as 'jeans boy' - it hurt at the time - hurt a lot -

when he died - it seemed so unreal - no one that close had ever died before - i felt totally unprepared - somewhat abandoned - we had just had 'the talk' - the talk i knew i would one day have in order to feel my life as complete - he cried - i cried -there was understanding - he said he and momma had always known - he laughed when i
asked why didn't he tell me - he hugged me - harder, longer than i ever remember him hugging me before -

i see him in my brothers and sisters - his eyes in one - his nose in another - his actions and reactions in us all - as if we all have an internal mechanism that asks 'what would daddy do - say'.

momma said she thought he knew - knew he was going - the tone of his voice - the talk of forgiveness - the preparations he made with meticulous precision - late in his life, he always wore overalls - he ironed them a few days before he died - something he had never done - but he put a crease in them so sharp it would cut ya' -he enjoyed ironing - ironing men things - jeans and shirts - i remember he would iron bubbas jeans and his own - when he wore them - when we buried daddy, we buried him in those overalls he had starched and ironed not 2 days before.

so you will know ...
he was a kind, gentle and honest man.
he had no time for those with mean or evil thoughts.
he was a just man, with a temper that was capable of engulfing the world he built.
but, when he showed his heart, as he often did, he charmed us all.
he was a man, who even though in need himself, would reach to help others.
he was a man who loved children and the hope they stood for.
he was a man who enjoyed fishing and companionship.
he spoke his love to us all with deeds not words, as words did not come easy for him.
on those occasions when he did speak his love, his words would engulf him and the tears would flow from his eyes - then you would feel the love within this man's heart.
as you read these words i write with so much love and pain, know that you have met then lost the man i called "daddy", some called "billy" and so many simply called "poppa" and that he would have loved you.

Billy Joyce 'BJ' Rash
April 1, 1929 - May 18, 1992