Paris Journal 2014 – Barbara Joy Cooley Home: barbarajoycooley.com
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My dad, Whit White, would have been 91 today. He passed away three years, two months, and 10 days ago. Before that, for twelve years, I made sure to call him from Paris to wish him a happy birthday every time September 5 rolled around. He seemed to be very pleased, and amused, that I did that – as if an overseas call was an unusual event. I saw him every day in the last month of his life. Even then, he was positive; he was embracing life even as he was accepting death. There is no doubt that his faith saw him through. He was brave. Being the writer and editor, I put his obituary together, with some input from others in the family. I have always felt that I had a keen sense of what was important to him. Among other things, I wrote, “Whit loved people – all people – and he loved God.” Dad wanted Tom and me to go on to Paris as planned that summer, three years ago. I was honored to see him every day of that last month of his life, and I was certain that he then wanted for me to go when he was gone -- he wanted to be sure we didn’t miss out on anything. When he was gone to the hereafter, he wanted us to go to France. I think of him often, especially when I see something that I know would have amused him, or when I sit quietly in a church or a park, meditating. He would like observing the operations of the restaurant behind us, or of the restaurants we visit, even more than I do. The same is true of the grocery stores that we visit. His business had been helping other businesses like these to do well, and to operate smoothly and profitably. He was a keen observer of people, and animals. He made astute observations about people, but he was never mean and he was not very judgmental. In that last month, he loved to look down at the water from his window, to watch the manatees playing. “They’re playing! They’re playing!” he exclaimed, gleefully. We’re not the same, he and I. For example, I devour books, and he did not. But when it comes to observing people, wildlife, and happenings, I think we are very similar. Like my mom and my sister and brothers, he was a devoted reader of this Paris Journal. He encouraged me onward with the journal, and he talked me into joining Facebook, to share my journal and my photographs all the more. He was kind, so very kind, and he was caring. I think of him, remember him, and I still am learning from him. Today, I’m calling him up in the hereafter, calling from Paris, to say “Happy birthday, Dad.”
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Friday, September 5, 2014
Winfield Wayne “Whit” White.
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