I’m looking at a perfectly beautiful morning from my slice of porch heaven. Looking up I see a cerulean blue sky filled with bleached white fluffy clouds. Warm sunshine is beaming down almost blinding in its brightness. It’s summertime hot.

Mother Nature and Father Sky painted a wondrous sky today putting a smile on all creation. Everything is greener after last night’s rain. A soft breeze is making the wind chime tintinnabulations sound like church organ pipes warming up. The birds are singing, the butterflies flittering.

Today is my daughter Rosalyn’s 41st birthday. She’s celebrating in heaven with Chief and if their view of the sky is half as pretty as what I can see, she’s having a glorious celebration. If she was here with me we’d be on a birthday shopping spree that would have to include an expensive purse, some high dollar shoes, makeup and maybe some perfume. She loved a purse as a toddler, dragging them around full of all her bookie. I’ve got the cutest photo of her, white bloomers on backwards, no shirt, big white clip-on earrings, posing in gray suede high heels, gigantic mother-in-law purse clutched in her hands. I’d use the photo in this blog but she’d lightning bolt me from heaven.

She was killed in a car wreck on March 17, 2002. She was 17 years old. I had picked her up from college that weekend. She was a freshman at Snead State Community College in Boaz and was looking forward to Spring Break with her friends. She was traveling back to a friends’ house in Boaz, driving my car, when she ran off the road on a horseshoe curve and jerking the steering wheel too strongly caused the car to flip. On the third flip the car struck a pasture gate fence and the fence post came through the windshield and struck her in the chest. Instant death from blunt force trauma.

The nightmare began that Sunday morning when I got the call from her friend’s mother. Their daughter had come upon the wreck, recognizing my car. Despite the state troopers advice to not call, her mother called to tell us of Rosie’s death. Her friend’s mother told me Rosie had a wreck. I immediately asked her about her daughter, hoping she was okay, thinking she had been in the car with Rosie. Then I asked to speak to Rosie and she said, “Rosie’s at the funeral home.” And I said, in ignorance, “Why is she there?” Still not understanding what she was trying to say, she said quietly, “The wreck killed her.” The breath left my body and I asked her to hold on for a moment. I ran upstairs to wake my oldest son Thomas, home that weekend from the University of Alabama. I handed him a piece of paper where I had written, “Rosie had a wreck last night and it killed her. I need you to come to the phone.” I had no breath to speak. Chief was at church so I sent Thomas to wait for his daddy outside of church and bring him home. I woke my youngest son Stewart and told him. The nightmare had begun.

Twenty-three years have passed since I got that call on Sunday morning and her death is still the first thing I think about when I wake, the last thing I think about at night. I lost her daddy to Covid in 2021 and I like to think he was reaching for her hand when I sat by his bed as he lay dying. His death is mingled with the thoughts of Rosie each night.

Rosie’s tomb stone reads “Budded on earth to bloom in heaven.” She’ll always be a beautiful young woman. She was such a happy ebullient child. Always singing and whistling. She had her teenage angst as most do but she had found her best friend and her place in life at Snead. I’m so thankful the last words I heard from her the last time I saw her were, “Bye, Mama, I love you.” And the last words she heard from me were, “Bye, Tootie. We love you!”

Been watching this lone yellow sulphur butterfly dancing all around the bird feeders and zinnias this morning. Didn’t know yellow sulphur butterflies flew so high. Did a little research and discovered the butterflies don’t usually fly higher than nine feet. This one was still going at about 60 feet, I watched it fly over the huge fir tree across the street. Maybe it was Rosie going back to heaven after coming down to tell me she was having a happy birthday.

Never let an opportunity to tell someone you love them escape you. Life is so short you might not ever get another chance. We never know what tomorrow’s sunrise will bring. If you have children, treat them as precious gifts from God. Children don’t ask to be born. We bring them into this world and they should be loved and cherished. Let them be children and embrace their fleeting childhood. Fill it with memories and photographs of happy times so when you’re gone they’ll find comfort in the memories and cherished photographs.

Life will eventually take away things we love. It’s inevitable. Don’t take the small things for granted. Every moment is special so don’t waste them. Don’t be frustrated by the things you can’t change. Focus on the present, soak up the memories. Embrace kindness and thoughtfulness. Learn to love the life you live.

“Death leaves a heartache no one can heal, love leaves a memory no one can steal.” — Richard Puz