While I was in Oklahoma last week I was able to see the two new houses in my family.

First up, my dad’s remodel, which turned out stunning. They pretty much redid the entire house minus a few rooms, forcing them to move into an apartment for 6 months. Well worth it, though, to see such a gorgeous, well-used space.

This is the new living room, which used to be a smaller room that we named the “Christmas Room,” because it was pretty much the only time we used it. They knocked down the wall between it and the kitchen, creating an open floor space that maximizes the entire lower level.

Hi, Maggs.

The former living room is now a quiet reading/sitting area. It’s my dad’s favorite space in the house and I agree it’s one of my favorites too.

Especially since it’s sporting two subway prints I made them based on their favorite travel spots. 🙂

Sprinkled around the house are canvas prints of my dad’s trip photos — a great touch!

But, the best part for me has to be the kitchen. As I kept telling them, I could do some real damage in here.

D R O O L I N G.  The kitchen envy is strong right now.

I know they’re really happy with their new spaces.

Even though they weren’t in town, we also visited the site of my sister’s new house.

Ta-Da!

We went poking and prodding through the site with me saying “I think this is my room” about every five minutes seconds.

It’s also going to be a gorgeous place for them, complete with lots of land and a pond, or Lily Lake, across the street. Such exciting times for everyone!

In light of recent events, it was nice to see their safe room underway. Who knows…this space might save the lives of my four faves. (Thankfully, after this week’s storms, all family and friends are okay.)

Excited for them to be in this house so *I* can be in it with them. When do we move in??

Earlier this week I made a whirlwind trip to Oklahoma for my Uncle Dickie’s funeral. It was wonderful to be there with family to celebrate one of the most exquisite men I’ve ever known.

Dick was actually my great-great uncle. As the second-youngest of nine, he spent a lot of time at my great-grandmother’s house—his eldest sister—who had two young children just his age, Jack and Patti (aka Memaw).

{Dick is standing on the far left, my great-grandmother is seated on the far right}

He adored my great-grandmother, Pauline.

I’m told he practically grew up at her house with these two. They have always been thick as thieves.

A small town’s Three Amigos until my grandpa arrived on the scene and they became The Four Musketeers. One of my favorite photos is this from their high school days, where Dick and Pops played basketball together. I believe it was this photo that started the nickname “Hot Uncle Dickie,” because, well, he was!

{Pops is second from the left on the back row, Dick is two over from Pops, peering over #55’s shoulder}

A natural athlete, Dick was recruited to play football for the University of Washington and OU by Bud Wilkinson before eventually playing quarterback for the army.

{Dick is standing in the center, #88}

After serving in Italy during the Korean Conflict, Dick worked in the electrical business, which is pretty apt. I’ve never known anyone with as much spark as him.

He and Beverly celebrated their 50th wedding anniversary earlier this year. Decades of love and adventures between them and she took such good care of him throughout a series of ongoing health struggles.

He was equally at home in being a ladies’ man and a guy’s guy.

And a huge OU fan — Boomer, baby.

My mom and her cousins (and me and mine) have looked to Dick like a father/grandfather in our lives. We benefitted greatly from his fount of never-ending generosity and humor. For being considered extended family, he showered all of us with the most immediate of loves.

Dick, Pops and Jack were unbelievable patriarchs. Pam nailed it this weekend when she said, “Families are lucky to have one of these men in their lives. We had three.”

Funny Man

In a family that prides itself on making others laugh, I swear Dick’s objective was to always make himself laugh first. I’ll miss the way he’d say something so inappropriate and then when he had your mouth-gaping attention, he’d close his eyes, open his mouth in a knowing smile and quietly chuckle to himself.

When my now brother-in-law joined us for his first Thanksgiving, Dick walked over, outstretched his hand, and said, “I’m Dick Morris. Who the hell are you?”  Here he is at a much earlier Thanksgiving, sitting at my great-grandmother’s table that now sits in our dining room and eating off the Desert Rose dishes we still use for holidays.

The day my sister got married was also the day of my prom, so while family gathered at my aunt’s house after the reception, I changed into a new dress and posed for photos on the lawn. Before getting into the car to leave, Dick came up to give me a hug and told me to give him a kiss. I tiptoed for a peck on his cheek and he yelled out “on the lips!” for everyone to hear. That guy. There’s no one like him.

He was always having the most fun in the room. Can you tell?

His lines, his stories, his lists of the world’s most important things…they will live on in beloved infamy.

Candy Man

Dick was the master of peanut brittle.

Every Thanksgiving since I was a little girl, we’ve had a Ziploc bag with my mom’s name on it lying on the counter. It wouldn’t last long, in fact it rarely made it to Christmas, and it’s what we eat any time we are all together.

He turned his batches into Dick’s Deluxe Peanut Brittle—a side business that made many people very happy around the holidays. Over the last five years he’s passed his brittle-making torch to various family members, including me. How thankful I am that so many of us will be stirring and watching and checking and freezing in his honor. At his service, the pastor related his brittle to family: You need enough sugar to hold all of the nuts together. In many ways Dick was that sugar holding us all together.

Family Man

The thing I loved most about Dick—above this humor, his wit, his brittle, his soft voice—was his love for my grandparents. With Memaw he was another brother, with Pops, a best friend. They were always together and he loved them so fully and so well.

When Pops had his stroke, Dick would come down to Houston to do anything to make their lives easier, from minor repairs to concocting a structure that would hold his arm up and help him build strength. He had always been their great protector, but never more so than then.

I could never thank him enough for the love, friendship, joy and support he freely gave them in the many decades they were together (in Memaw’s case, over 83 years).

Here they are singing a favorite childhood song just a few weeks ago. (Sorry for cutting off the start of the song!)

He meant the world to them, so he means the world to me.

The Funeral

Family came from all over the country to pay their respects to Dick. Pam and his two sons spoke beautifully about what it meant to have someone like him in their lives, no matter how long. His pastor from Texas led a touching service before Dick received his military honors at the grave site. It was a sad day, no doubt about it, but it was made easier with these folks.

Especially her…

…who ordered orange flowers to be placed at Pops’ ‘next door’ grave “to break up all that OU red.” Zingers til the very end.

No one ever loved Dickie as much as these two ladies.

I’ll be thinking of them a lot as we move forward.

There hasn’t been a time in my life when Dick wasn’t there, until now. And that is the saddest of realities.

On my way back home I was struck by a song’s lyrics about family: “Always remember there was nothing worth sharing like the love that let us share our name.” We have a lot of family tree branches to be thankful for, but his will always be special.

We’ll miss you so much, Dickie. See you down the road.

After a wonderful time on the farm, I packed up the rental car booked it to Dallas during the week’s only 6-hour stint of good weather. A whole gaggle of us were converging in Carrollton to visit my Uncle Dick (well, great great uncle) and Aunt Bev and there was another massive ice storm on its way.

It was so good to see his smiling face, with cat Pepper.

The weather kept us from all really getting together for the first two days, but I enjoyed getting iced in with these two and Bev.

We did puzzles, looked through old recipes, told stories and jokes, and ate like king and queens.

Then, on my last night, the ice had thawed just enough for everyone to get together for dinner and cake. We sat around the table and listened to Dick and Memaw sing songs from their childhood and saw just how well Dick could make a rhyme out of anything.

God, I love this photo. Two of the best people ever.

I kissed him twice that night and told him I loved him very much. He told me he loved me and really loved Joe. (He always did love him best.)

There was so much love and laughter around that table. In my heart I didn’t want it to end, but I knew it was probably my last hoorah with Dick.

And it was.

Dick passed away tonight, just eleven days after our  weekend together. Eleven days. It’s a blink of the eye and I’m in shock that it happened so fast. I’ll need some time to collect my thoughts on the man I called my “Hot Uncle Dickie,” for there are many and they are wonderful.

Tonight my heart is heavy with grief, my world a little dimmer, but at the same time I’m so overwhelmingly grateful for those three days and the lifetime of memories he leaves behind.

We love you, Dick.