I want to tell you a story about a really cool guy, my dad. Growing up, he was just that, a dad. He taught me how to ride a bike, helped me with my math, wiped away my tears, and kicked my butt when I needed it. We had a lot of fun together. He was pretty soft spoken and gentle, but he was tough when he needed to be. He loved fart jokes, Harley Davidsons, stray animals, and peanuts. The ones in the salty shell and the dry roasted ones that come in a jar.
But before he was my dad, he was a rock star. He never made it famous, but he lived out his dream of playing in a band. He was the lead singer of a band called “4 Good Reasons.” They played at a bar in Vail, Colorado. He played the guitar and the mandolin and was the lead singer. He drove a gold Stingray Corvette. I can only imagine how cool he was. No wonder my mom was smitten by him!
Although I didn’t get to see my dad as a rock star, he brought music into my life. We grew up going camping in our green and white Nomad trailer and fishing in our little tin boat on the beautiful and pristine Fish Lake. Every night, without fail, we would sit around the campfire all snuggled up and my dad would play the guitar and we would all sing along. Our favorites were from John Denver, the Beatles, and Peter, Paul and Mary. I didn’t know any different and I just thought everyone did that. My favorite song of all time was “Back Home Again,” by John Denver. “Hey it’s good to be back home again, sometimes this old farm feels like a long lost friend.”
As I grew up and got married, my dad’s health started to deteriorate. He continued to play the guitar and sing for us every chance we had. We still tried to go camping and share the campfire experiences with our own kids. My older brother inherited my dad’s talent of singing and playing the guitar, so they would often sing together and we would all join in. This became so special to all of our family. We would gather around on Christmas Eve when we were all together and have a singalong.
My dad’s health continued to get worse. He was diabetic and often his blood sugar would drop so low in the middle of the night that he would have to be rushed to the hospital. He would spend a few days in the ICU until he was able to come back home again. This continued to become more and more frequent, and combined with other health issues, he was losing his strength and will.
One night it got really bad. My mom called me in the middle of the night and I rushed over. He was really sick and could hardly get out of bed to go to the bathroom. We knew he needed to get to the hospital immediately or he wouldn’t make it. We kept begging him to try and get up with our help, and he just shook his head. He looked at me and pointed toward heaven. I said, “Dad, do you want to go home?” and he gave me a nod. As hard as it was for us to accept, we knew this was his time.
We called hospice and they came right away and set up a hospital bed right in his bedroom. I dressed the bed carefully and lovingly with Harley Davidson sheets and we got him all comfortable and situated. My whole family came and gathered around his bedside. And I’m sure you can imagine the scene. My brother pulled out his guitar and we started our campfire sing along. We all joined in singing, “Back Home Again”:
“It’s the sweetest thing I know of, just spending time with you
It’s the little things that make a house a home
Like a fire softly burning and supper on the stove
The light in your eyes that makes me warm.”
We were all together that night as my dad went “home.” We didn’t have a spectacular life, but we had all the little things that matter most. And to us, our dad was a rock star.
I was cleaning my car just the other day, and I found a jar of dry roasted peanuts under the seat from our last road trip, my dad’s favorites. I was famished so I popped it open and started eating them. All of a sudden I had this overwhelming feeling of my dad being right there with me. So we ate peanuts together and chatted about life. I know he’s back home again, but I know he’s watching over me and my family until we meet again.
– Jeanette Pixton
Jeanette Pixton and her husband Todd are the proud parents of four amazing children. They enjoy spending time together at Lake Powell and Island Park, where they try to incorporate singing around the campfire every chance they get.