Although Phil was born in the Texas Piney Woods of Texarkana, his formative years were spent in El Paso, Texas. I recently read some notes in which he described his regret for not staying in school and getting into trouble during his teens. I have a feeling that guilt haunted him for most of his adult life.
Some people never really fit into our Western World. I think my dad was one of those square pegs that can't fit the round holes here on our part of the Earth. He didn't care much for worldly possessions. He didn't shop. He didn't need to drive a nice car - ever. He didn't seem to even care that much about money. His possessions often were disposable and lacked meaning. He cared more about saying hi to people and trying to be kind to friends and strangers than gaining any position or materials. He was really just an immensely kind-hearted soul that often got hurt or frustrated or disappointed by people. I know God has a plan for everyone. Phil was important because of how God used him. God used my dad to teach me patience, acceptance, humility, tolerance and empathy.
About the time I first remember Phil, he was married to Gwynn and had just turned 20 years old. We lived in Southern California in a tiny house behind the owner's house. Phil decided sunny California wasn't the place for him. Instead, he sold us the story of a grand city called, "Dallas" which neither my mom nor I had ever been to. It wasn't long before we were packed up and headed back to the Lone Star State chasing some dream.
After that it is a stream of visions of my dad...
Throwing the Frisbee...
Cooking...
Fishing and camping...
Phil taught me many lessons and many skills. He taught me to ride a bike, throw a football, change a bike tire, build a model car, change a car tire, and check the oil. I watched football with him on Sundays and Monday nights. I was the son he never had. He showed me the nuances of a sandwich: that mayonnaise goes on turkey, and mustard goes on ham. In the kitchen I learned to scramble eggs, chop an onion, value jalapenos, sharpen a knife and you better fill an ice tray if you use it. Arguably most important is the secret to magazine maintenance: that you must tear out all of the card-stock advertisements in a magazine before you read it so your pages don't keep flipping to them.
When I reflect on what we had in common, I now realize the one thing we both cared about: food. Seriously. Just days before he passed away, I left the hospital late after visiting hours concluded and stopped at the grocery store. It really hit me that night how sick he was, and I think I realized that he wasn't going to make it. I found myself slowly going down each isle with my buggy while every can, bottle, loaf, seasoning, and sauce reminded me of Dad. I thought of how he recommended such and such, and how many times he'd come over and made gravey for me or made a rue for me. That's when it hip me: our relationship was groceries. Our love language was food. Maybe it was that I often went with him to the grocery store, or perhaps it was all the cooking I watched him do, yet most likely our relationship was that way because I loved all the food he cooked. Either way, I'll miss his culinary expertise forever, and thus, his love.
Phil loved his big Blaylock family down to the smallest baby. The phone calls on Sunday from his sisters would put a spring in his step. He bragged on his neices and nephews and their kids whenever he had a chance. And, you should have seen Phil with his grand kids. He was so sweet and gentle. It made me smile for him to get that unconditional love from my girls. Scout and Brooke would both hug and kiss him, and he'd just have such a big smile while he hugged them back so softly.
God loved Phil like he loves each of us; unconditionally. Phil's work here on Earth was done on March 18, 2010. Before going to Heaven, he was a servant to his mother while she was ill in the hospital. He was a servant helping Gwynn, care for my granddad and Richard while they were ill and subsequently passed away. Fortunately, Phil was able to see and hold and hug all of his grandchildren. He obtained sobriety for almost the last two years of his life. He was a Christian, and had been to church several times with us over the last year. In my opinion, Phil's life had many valleys including debilitating mental health, poverty and addiction. Perhaps the valleys outnumbered the peaks of his life. Still, he fought the good fight, he finished the race and he kept the faith. I'm just at peace now knowing he doesn't have to suffer in his broken body in this world any longer.
Like I said, I don't think he was ever meant for life on this Earth.
Some people never really fit into our Western World. I think my dad was one of those square pegs that can't fit the round holes here on our part of the Earth. He didn't care much for worldly possessions. He didn't shop. He didn't need to drive a nice car - ever. He didn't seem to even care that much about money. His possessions often were disposable and lacked meaning. He cared more about saying hi to people and trying to be kind to friends and strangers than gaining any position or materials. He was really just an immensely kind-hearted soul that often got hurt or frustrated or disappointed by people. I know God has a plan for everyone. Phil was important because of how God used him. God used my dad to teach me patience, acceptance, humility, tolerance and empathy.
About the time I first remember Phil, he was married to Gwynn and had just turned 20 years old. We lived in Southern California in a tiny house behind the owner's house. Phil decided sunny California wasn't the place for him. Instead, he sold us the story of a grand city called, "Dallas" which neither my mom nor I had ever been to. It wasn't long before we were packed up and headed back to the Lone Star State chasing some dream.
After that it is a stream of visions of my dad...
Throwing the Frisbee...
Cooking...
Fishing and camping...
Phil taught me many lessons and many skills. He taught me to ride a bike, throw a football, change a bike tire, build a model car, change a car tire, and check the oil. I watched football with him on Sundays and Monday nights. I was the son he never had. He showed me the nuances of a sandwich: that mayonnaise goes on turkey, and mustard goes on ham. In the kitchen I learned to scramble eggs, chop an onion, value jalapenos, sharpen a knife and you better fill an ice tray if you use it. Arguably most important is the secret to magazine maintenance: that you must tear out all of the card-stock advertisements in a magazine before you read it so your pages don't keep flipping to them.
When I reflect on what we had in common, I now realize the one thing we both cared about: food. Seriously. Just days before he passed away, I left the hospital late after visiting hours concluded and stopped at the grocery store. It really hit me that night how sick he was, and I think I realized that he wasn't going to make it. I found myself slowly going down each isle with my buggy while every can, bottle, loaf, seasoning, and sauce reminded me of Dad. I thought of how he recommended such and such, and how many times he'd come over and made gravey for me or made a rue for me. That's when it hip me: our relationship was groceries. Our love language was food. Maybe it was that I often went with him to the grocery store, or perhaps it was all the cooking I watched him do, yet most likely our relationship was that way because I loved all the food he cooked. Either way, I'll miss his culinary expertise forever, and thus, his love.
Phil loved his big Blaylock family down to the smallest baby. The phone calls on Sunday from his sisters would put a spring in his step. He bragged on his neices and nephews and their kids whenever he had a chance. And, you should have seen Phil with his grand kids. He was so sweet and gentle. It made me smile for him to get that unconditional love from my girls. Scout and Brooke would both hug and kiss him, and he'd just have such a big smile while he hugged them back so softly.
God loved Phil like he loves each of us; unconditionally. Phil's work here on Earth was done on March 18, 2010. Before going to Heaven, he was a servant to his mother while she was ill in the hospital. He was a servant helping Gwynn, care for my granddad and Richard while they were ill and subsequently passed away. Fortunately, Phil was able to see and hold and hug all of his grandchildren. He obtained sobriety for almost the last two years of his life. He was a Christian, and had been to church several times with us over the last year. In my opinion, Phil's life had many valleys including debilitating mental health, poverty and addiction. Perhaps the valleys outnumbered the peaks of his life. Still, he fought the good fight, he finished the race and he kept the faith. I'm just at peace now knowing he doesn't have to suffer in his broken body in this world any longer.
Like I said, I don't think he was ever meant for life on this Earth.
To see the amazing video my sister made Click Here
3 comments:
Beautiful tribute to a beautiful soul. So glad he's not hurting any more.
Tears. Total tears right now. Great stories of you dad! He will be missed!
Ro... I had no idea he passed on.. I have been working so much, this is the first time I have had the time to get online in a long while (I've ben home sick for a week!).. My heart goes out to you and your mom and Charlie. It breaks my heart.. Phil was always such a sweet, gentle soul. I will never forget the intense talks we had when he lived in the garage.
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