July 11,1963 was possibly the worst day of my childhood. My Dad was on the road in his Overnite truck.He felt ill, pulled his truck over( as best he could) put out his emergency markers and laid down in his truck. He had suffered a cerebral hemorrhage and died a few hours later.
My Mother was now a young woman with three young children to raise on her own.I remember watching her as the family gathered at our home that night.It was as if she had lost the only person that she could count on.The only person that had ever loved her and cared for her.
The only thing I remember about the funeral, was being carried ( by someone not sure who) up to the casket to see the man that I loved more than anything in the world. I don't remember looking at him.........
The next few weeks are a blur.I remember thinking,what will happen to us! Why would God take my Dad when I needed him so much!