The MOST Amazing Man In The World

From the first time he saw me, I became his world. I was he pride and joy, his treasure. His responsibility. His daughter! 21 years and he has NEVER let me down....well, I guess telling me "No" has kind of let me down, but he knew better. And for that, I am grateful. I am grateful that I had a father who cared enough to say "No", who loved me enough to want what was best for me. He continues to love me just the same if not more every day of my life. I am grateful for a Christian, God-fearing father who made me go to church every Sunday until I was old enough to make that decision myself. He instilled in me my southern values and morals that have made me the "Southern Belle" I am today. He has given me unconditional love nomatter what I've done: whether dangerous, stupid or both and praised me for my achievements. He has been there for every talent show, every singing competition, every softball game, every basketball game, every theater performance...cheering me on every step of the way and encouraging me to work hard and achieve my dreams. When I decided maybe sports weren't my calling, he supported that decision and encouraged my "theatrical" path.

And even now when I'm on my own and I need my daddy's help, he is there. I couldn't have asked for a better daddy! He will always be the man in my life! The one man I can ALWAYS count on nomatter what! The one man who will ALWAYS be on my side...the ONE man I will ALWAYS know I can come home to...

I love you, Daddy!

The Day I Lost My Buddy, and Gained My Guardian Angel

On July 8, 2005, my dear sweet grandfather, Clarence E. Goodson, aka "Pops" passed away from Parkinsons disease. He had just turned 70 July 5th. I was 16.

My parents and I had just gotten back from Alaska to visit my sister for her college graduation party.  My grandmother "Nona", with my Pops in the backseat, picked us up from the airport.  I was so excited to see him! Pops was very weak. He could barely hold his head up or open his eyes. So when I was trying to show him my pictures on my camera, it was hard. But he got to see them all. And he would ask me questions like "Where was that" and "Hold that up closer to me so I can see it" and "My, my that looks pretty. I wish I was there". All he wanted to do was hear about our trip.  When we got home, Nona dropped us off and then went to their house because Pops had a lunch date at home with his brother for his birthday.  So I gave him a big hug and a kiss and I said "I'll see you later, Pops. Have a good time with Claude. I love you very much!" He asked me if I was still his little buddy and I laughed and said "Of course I am!". Those were the last words I ever said to him.


An hour later, Pops fell out of his chair while eating his sandwich. Claude tried to get him up, but Pops was a heavy man. So, he called my dad to help.  Pops was always falling so when Daddy said he was going to help get him up, I didn't think anything about it. Well, the minutes turned to hours and Daddy still wasn't back yet. You see, they lived right next to us so I had expected him back pretty soon. But I brushed it off because maybe Daddy had stayed to visit with his uncle who he never saw.  That's what I thought until I looked out the window. And I saw an ambulance and a rescue squad truck and my Nona's van (who went to work only a couple hours before). And I knew something wasn't right. Then I saw my dad and great-grandmother motion for me to come outside. Daddy was crying. I had only seen him cry 2x before, so I KNEW then something was terribly wrong.  All he said was "We can't get Pops to wake up! Are you coming to the hospital or not?" It took a few seconds for me to answer which was frustrating to Daddy. I finally said "No, you go ahead."

Now, why wouldn't I go to the hospital? Why wouldn't I want to say goodbye to my Pops? The one man I loved SO much? My buddy, my "partner in crime"? There were a lot of reasons going through my head at the time. "I don't need to say goodbye because he's not going anywhere. This was just a bad fall and he'll come out of it."..."I hate hospitals"..."I don't wanna see him that way." The last one was the truth. "I don't wanna see him that way. I don't want the last picture in my mind of him to be in the hospital bed. I want to know that he was smiling and loving on me and I want the last words I said to him just a couple hours ago to STAY the last words I ever said to him. Because they were true and they were lasting: "I'll see you later Pops. I love you SO much....Of course I'm still your buddy!"

I called my best friend, Julianna and she came right to me.  She tried everything she could to get my mind off what was happening.  A family friend came home and told me that Pops was gone. And I lost it.  Even though I kind of knew he was, I didn't want to believe it. But then when the truth came out for real, I just lost it. I couldn't breathe, I couldn't think. I couldn't stop crying. Julianna held me and just told me everything was going to be okay.

When everyone came home from the hospital, I went to my Nona's house. We all started eating to just stop thinking I guess. Nona got on the funeral arrangements immediately. Poor thing. She has to stay busy to stay sane. Everyone was coming over to the house to pay their respects to my grandpa, and believe me, we got A LOT of visitors that day. He was a VERY well-known, VERY loved man in our town. When one of our family friends came over, Daddy answered the door. One look at him and he lost it. I had never seen my dad LOSE it. I had seen him cry, shed a tear, but NEVER lose it! And it was heart wrenching! Everyone came home: Uncles, Aunts, both my sisters, even the one who we had JUST seen in ALASKA flew all the way down. Kinda sucks that it takes bad circumstances before you see anyone.

Over the next couple days, we made funeral plans and went to the viewing. When we got out of the van to go into the funeral home, THAT was when I lost it COMPLETELY!  I grabbed the first person I could find, well, I guess she grabbed me as soon as I turned around, which was my very frail great-grandmother. And I was screaming. I was sobbing. All the while saying "I don't wanna go in there, I can't see him like this. It's NOT gonna be HIM! I want him back! This isn't right! This isn't right!" Mammaw just held me. Kept rubbing my back and saying "I know, baby. I know. It's gonna be okay." And my family just stood around me and waited until I stopped. A few went on ahead inside but everyone patiently waited to see him. Finally, I collected myself, stopped and Daddy grabbed me and hugged me hard. He asked if I was ready to go inside and reluctantly I said yes. Are you ever REALLY ready to see a loved one like that? Just their body? But their body doesn't really even look like them. It's all made up and cold, and fake. It's not THEM.

We went back home. I asked Nona if it would be okay for me to sing at the funeral. Everyone looked at me like I was crazy. I explained "Guys, listen. Pops loved it when I sang for him. Everytime I was with him, he asked me 'Sing something for me, buddy'. And I did and he always said it was the most beautiful thing he had ever heard. And music is my therapy. So I think that not only would he LOVE it, but it would really help me out a lot and I WANT to do this. This is my way of saying 'Goodbye'". My uncle Greg confirmed it. "I think she's absolutely right. I don't think anyone else should do it." So it was settled. And I even knew EXACTLY what song I would do: Go Rest High On That Mountain by Vince Gill. It was POPS. He loved gospel music, and he loved to hike. He loved the outdoors. So even before he was gone, everytime I heard that song I thought of him. So it was agreed that I would sing that song the following Sunday at my Pops' funeral.

Sunday arrived. And everyone was meeting and greeting in the fellowship hall of the church before the funeral. I asked the pastor if I could please sing first because if anything else is said or sung before, I won't be able to do it, on account I'll be crying. He chuckled and said "I'll do what I can". Well, he said a prayer and the introduction which ALMOST got me, but then I got to sing. And sing did I do. I sang as if Pops was sitting right beside me, smiling, and listening to my every word. Just like he always did everytime I sang or spoke. I never cried DURING the song. I just let it come:

I know your life on earth was trouble
And only you could know the pain
You weren't afraid to face the devil
You were no stranger to the rain

So go rest high on that mountain
Son, your work on earth is done
Go to heaven a-shoutin
Love for the Father and the Son

O how we cried the day you left us
We gathered round your grave to grieve
Wish I could see the angels faces
When they hear your sweet voice sing

So go rest high on that mountain
Son, your work on earth is done
Go to heaven a-shoutin
Love for the Father and the Son
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Just like that, I said goodbye to my grandfather, my buddy, my Pops. I can't sing that song NOW without crying. I don't think I will ever be able to.  We sang Amazing Grace, which was his favorite hymn. And I cried. But I think that after I sang to my Pops, I was able to say goodbye. I was able to have closure and I was able to let him go. He will always be watching over me, he will always be my Guardian Angel.  When silly things happen to me, I'll always know its him playing tricks on me, just because that's who he was. Everytime I go back home, I always try to pay him a visit. I'll just sit at his grave and talk to him. Sometimes people who drive by think I'm crazy but I'm not. I just wanna sit and have a conversation with my Pops. I can have a conversation with him anywhere, anytime. But I like to go home, and go to where he lies. It makes me feel closer to him. Sometimes I sing the song, sometimes I tell him funny stuff, sometimes I just sit there in silence and let my heart do the talking. Maybe one day I'll try and go to where he used to hike in the Pisgah National Forest. He is with me in everything I do, he is there everywhere I go. And I will ALWAYS love him. He will never leave me. I will always think of him flying with the angels, socializing with his friends and family that have gone before him, or even after. He is probably one of the favorites in heaven, I wouldn't doubt it at all. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6jXrmAKBBTU

Good Ol Pops at Sunday morning breakfast

















Pops and I after my 5th grade Talent Show




















Clarence Ernest Goodson...July 5, 1935-July 8, 2005
May you Rest In Peace.

M-U-S-I-C

When someone asks me what kind of music I listen to, I usually say ANYTHING and EVERYTHING.  But the main thing I look for when it comes to a "good song" is something I can sing along to.  Something that speaks to me...something I can actually understand what they are talking about.  It doesn't always have to be a "story"...sometimes the best songs have hidden meanings and are metaphoric, which are sometimes even better.

Before I say this, I want to mention that I appreciate every kind of music. From country to rap to classical to hard core screamo...it's all music and to SOMEONE it's all beautiful.  Having said that, when it comes to degrading rap talking about sluts and b****es who f**k good...that's where I draw the line.  I do not appreciate the degrading rap.

A lot of my friends like the hard-core screamo music where all I hear is RRRRRRRRRAHHHHHHHHHH IIIIII  WWWWIIIILLLLLL KIIIILLLLLLLL YYYYOOUUUUUUUU!!!! I guess I just don't understand why...and that's okay. Because I like country, and a lot of people don't. A lot of people don't hear the GOOD out of country. They hear "My truck got stole, my woman got stole, my dog died, I lost my job and now I'm drinkin at a bar" when really, that's not the case at all most of the time.  A lot of country, especially modern country has an excellent story to it, and most of it is really positive and feel-good and puts you in a good mood. And since I don't listen to a lot of screamo, maybe I don't hear the good songs.

Music has always been my escape. When I'm feeling down, I put on some music (especially the kind with a good message) and then sometimes, when I want to scream, I turn on some AC/DC (about as hard core as I go) and head bang lol (funny sight too) But at any rate, whatever it is I'm listening to, music is music. It's the most amazing, most beautiful thing in the world. It works wonders for me and many many many other people in the world. Without music, I would probably be a very very stressed out, negative, crazy, depressed person. I owe my sanity to M-U-S-I-C!

Anyway, this is me on my soapbox, what I was thinking about tonight.

Over and out.

My Love

...but I never said "I love you from the heart, til I said it to you..."-Reba McEntire, Til I Said It To You

I have had that song stuck in my head allll day. Because I'm crazy in love with my man. We have been together for almost two years and I'm still crazy about him. Some days, I feel like strangling him. And most, I just wanna love on him. He keeps me straight, he keeps me sane, he protects me, he makes me feel BEAUTIFUL! He loves everything about me even though he and I are complete opposite.  He is the neat freak, on time, always organized and planned out one and I am the slob, always late, never organized, messy, spontaneous one. But we are crazy for each other. From the first day I met him, I knew he was "the one" and I have every intention of marrying him someday.

Have I been in love before? Yes, twice. The first time was obviously my first love and I was seventeen and wild. Nothing mattered to me. My world revolved around him. Everything I did was HIM. And it was crazy. To this day, if you were to ask me why I fell for him, I couldn't give you an answer other than "You don't know him the way I do. You would have to be in my shoes to understand." And that's the truth. It was one of those loves that is completely unexplainable and has no reason, it just IS. But I don't regret ANY of it because it is because of that love that I am who I am today. It is because of that love that I have made some of the choices that have made me who I am today. And I still love him dearly. Of course I do, he was my first love.

The second love was something I did not expect. It just kinda happened. Didn't last very long but I can honestly say that yea, I loved him. I loved him because he showed another aspect of life. He showed me about hard work and dedication and success. He taught me about goals. He made me see that I can do absolutely anything I want to do if I put my mind to it and to this day, he and I are great friends. He was and still is the BEST first DATE I have ever had. We met on some circumstances that most people think is CRAZY and dangerous. But for us, it worked. And we were LUCKY and FORTUNATE for that.

But Rick. My LOVE. My future. It's not the butterflies, it's not the "sparks"....its the way I feel everyday knowing I am HIS and he is MINE. It's the security that I know that nomatter what I do, I will have someone there who loves me more than life itself, and THAT is something SO powerful! When I think of us, I think of our future. I think of our children...I think of 50 years from now when we're all old and wrinkly of how much LOVE and ADORATION we will STILL have for each other. To him, I am the most beautiful girl in the world. To me, he is Superman.