Walking in frog country

Today as I am walking alongside one of my favorite dikes, I heard what seemed like 100 frogs carrying on quite loudly. I listened and could actually hear the rib-it, rib-it of the more baratone members. The ducks were floating and seemed to be trying to nap. The clouds in the sky were all white and puffy and sort of stretched out and in the distance, the darker, gray clouds were giving warning. People were out walking. That's what you do in Washington, you get the heck out of the house and hope to walk without a downpour. A young lady with a nice big smile and big blonde ponytail swishing back and forth was jogging. As I walk, I do a lot of thinking. I like to talk to my dad whom I'll refer to as Papi (pronounced poppy). Papi is spanish for father. Papi died this year exactly 9 months ago from today. I was there for him, I held his hand, I cared for his body when he could no longer do it. Papi brought me into this world and I helped him out of this world. A few days before he died, my sister asked him if he needed anything and he responded, "what's there to need, I have my 4 women here with me". I talked to dad every single night around 7 p.m. for many years. My mother told me recently, he used to sit on his couch and wait for that call every night. I did not know that. I worried I might be bothering him. I would tell him about my day, what happened at work, whine and complain about things and he would listen until I wore him out and then he would say, "ok, enough, time to sign out KROZ." So I was like a bedtime story for him. Dad's heart had been on the fritz for the past 5 years. It barely pumped but my sister referred to him as the ever-ready battery bunny. Dad did not quit until he was forced to. He even held out to the first of the month to make sure my mom got his pension check. When I worked as a social worker in Hospice, sometimes I would need help knowing how to be with certain people and families. Dad was so wise and helpful and he was very interested in my work and would want to hear my stories. He also turned to me as he lost friends in the assisted living place he lived in. I would tell him, go visit them dad, even if they can't talk, the hearing is the last to go. Tell them you are there and that you will sit awhile and keep them company.....and he would. I miss him alot. I am glad I spent so much time with him the past 3 years. He had lost most of his hearing and was almost totally blind but we had alot of fun. We would have a contest going on of who could out tease the other. I would always threaten him with the "duct tape" and he always responded, "yii, yii". The duct tape story comes from a summer vacation when he and mom drove to Washington. Whenever we went anywhere, he and mom would always sit in the back seat of our car and sing Mexican songs or dad would talk and talk and talk until your ears damn near fell off. Well, one time I told him if he didn't be quiet I was going to duct tape his mouth shut and throw him in the trunk! Well then we never heard the end of his Rodney Dangerfield, impersonation of "I get no respect". More on the Papi man later.