Ronald Day Thomas
12/2/34 - 4/19/87
Today would have been my dad's 80th birthday. I can hardly fathom what that would be like, but boy do I wish I was lighting up 80 candles on a homemade chocolate cake...
I lost him when he was just 52. Not fair. Not fair at all.
I have very few pictures of my dad. I fear they are forever lost. This makes me so very sad and is the number one reason why I take pictures. Why I record memories. Why I scrapbook.
I'm guessing just before I was born.
He was very strong. I used to hang from those tattooed biceps (aka guns).
He was a charmer. He'd never met a stranger.
He was the life of the party. A funny man. He used to write down jokes and keep them in his wallet.
He was a wanderer. A nomad. He traveled the Continental US in an 18-wheeler.
He died in that truck.
He was my dad.
Man. I loved this man.
This is one of my very favorite pictures...even though it's blurry. That picture on the table? My mom.
|Yes. He was a smoker in his early years, but would later quit.|
Yes. That's a real newspaper, pretty sure it was the comics.
Yes. Loved a good cup of coffee.
Very "Leave-It-To-Beaver-esque" right?
He was 26 when I was born.
I was 26 when he died.
And today...I have lived exactly 1/2 of my life without him.