"When is daddy coming home?" This must have been the question that Terry and I asked our mother over and over again. She was probably in too much pain, physically, mentally and emotionally, to give us an answer that we could come close to understanding. A daddy to a three year old boy and a four year old girl is like the sunrise and sunset. He is always supposed to be there in the morning to wake up the day, and be there in the evening to put the day to sleep.
Ronald Benjamin Hutchinson died on December 21, 1958. He was traveling at a high rate of speed when he hit a light post on Interstate 45 and Almeda Genoa Road. He most likely died on impact. His official cause of death was a ruptured aorta. He left a young wife and three small children behind.
As I get older, I seem to think more about that night. I don't remember much of what happened until after the funeral, which was two days later. However, it was the night of December 21, 1958 that set my life course on a different path.
Robert McLaren, now a retired professor from Cal State University at Fullerton, officiated my father's funeral. He along with several women from his church tried to help our family. Within days, the pain was too much to bare for my mother. She became delusional and entered a psychiatric hospital. As a result, my sister, brother and I entered emergency foster care. For the next eighteen months we were under the guardianship of the State of Texas.
There is much more to this story, which I have written some about in the past. However, the question that keeps rolling around in my mind this day is, "How am I different because of this event?" I understand that there is nothing I can do to change the course of history. Yet, the question still begs reflection. The following lyrics are something I just did, so I guess you would say it is a work in progress. Maybe it will become a Tim McGraw song for next Christmas?
Daddy, where did you go?
by
David Michael
Daddy, where did you go
on that cold winter's night?
Why did you leave in such a hurry,
why did you and momma fight?
What about Christmas?
It's just a few days away
Please come back daddy
Tomorrow will be a better day.
Come back daddy,
Everything will be alright,
I'll make you laugh again,
Please come back tonight?
Ronald Benjamin Hutchinson died on December 21, 1958. He was traveling at a high rate of speed when he hit a light post on Interstate 45 and Almeda Genoa Road. He most likely died on impact. His official cause of death was a ruptured aorta. He left a young wife and three small children behind.
As I get older, I seem to think more about that night. I don't remember much of what happened until after the funeral, which was two days later. However, it was the night of December 21, 1958 that set my life course on a different path.
Robert McLaren, now a retired professor from Cal State University at Fullerton, officiated my father's funeral. He along with several women from his church tried to help our family. Within days, the pain was too much to bare for my mother. She became delusional and entered a psychiatric hospital. As a result, my sister, brother and I entered emergency foster care. For the next eighteen months we were under the guardianship of the State of Texas.
There is much more to this story, which I have written some about in the past. However, the question that keeps rolling around in my mind this day is, "How am I different because of this event?" I understand that there is nothing I can do to change the course of history. Yet, the question still begs reflection. The following lyrics are something I just did, so I guess you would say it is a work in progress. Maybe it will become a Tim McGraw song for next Christmas?
Daddy, where did you go?
by
David Michael
Daddy, where did you go
on that cold winter's night?
Why did you leave in such a hurry,
why did you and momma fight?
What about Christmas?
It's just a few days away
Please come back daddy
Tomorrow will be a better day.
Come back daddy,
Everything will be alright,
I'll make you laugh again,
Please come back tonight?
3 comments:
Merry Christmas David.
Your song makes my heart hurt for you and your siblings.
Hey David. I stopped by to wish you a Merry Christmas.
Thinking of you and your fam,
Nancy
I was born on December 21, 1958, at 11:43 PM. My life began that night. I must say, I was touched by your story. But I guess my story is quite different from yours. Maybe there's a lesson and some poignancy here: whenever there's a tragedy, someone's celebrating something at the same time; and whenever there's joy, someone somewhere is grieving.
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