My daddy, front porches, and rocking chairs

My daddy is 85 years old. He has been alone since my mother died 9 years ago. It is difficult for me to go see him because I still fall apart when I go in his house. I can still see my mother sitting in her wheelchair waiting on death to occur and fighting it with every last breath she took. I have not been to see him in 4 months and he only lives 1 hour away. Today I am coming home from work and I drive around the corner to see his car sitting in my driveway. I look up and he and his friend are sitting on my porch rocking away. I am delighted to see him and always feel guilt creeping up about not going to his house first. He is almost white headed now as the gray has taken over his brown. His eyes are still piercing blue and bright. I am sure these are one of the many handsome qualities my mom was attracted to. His voice is strong and his mind sharp as a tack. He always has a garden growing and flowers to prune. His face tanned from work outside and fingers worn from digging in the dirt. He is steady on foot, still strong enough to run his tiller and check on his neighbors. He begins his history of who has died, since I last talked with him, who is the oldest neighbor left, how much stuff he has eaten from his garden and where he last preached. I love my daddy. I have been estranged from him, since my mom's death, because it left me with a feeling I can't explain. I struggled to see him or talk to him because of the hurt I knew he felt with mom gone. I am getting better. I have been wrong not to conquer this. I have missed out on many conversations with him. I cannot go back. How fortunate that he is able to come see me. My daddy is kind and always tries to hope for the best in people. He believes in doing the right thing and always has a funny story to tell. I am thankful that he found my house today, could walk up to my front porch and rock away in my chair. 85 and still rocking!