I hung out with a family friend who was close to my earthly father not too long ago. Okay actually it was just over six years ago. I ran across a post on Facebook memories.

The last time I saw my dad was on his 76th birthday in January of 2005. I got him a birthday card that had one of those dials on it that you could point it at his age. It went up to 105 years so I just left it there. My friend’s wife told my pops that he looked good for being over 100.

Anybody that thinks I’m funny would think I was too dry and serious compared to my father. Maybe a sense of humor is a generational curse.

Since my full name is Erwin Bishop Wooten II, my dad also has the same name. I had fun with our names on social media and switched it around to Bishop Erwin the 1st and 2nd. Religious people thought I was being arrogant.

My dad was born during the great depression on January 18, 2005 in Mesa, Arizona. He always told the story about how he was born four doors down from some country singer named Buck Owens (anybody reading this old enough to know who that is?)

Dad’s was named after two of his great uncles; Irving was his dad’s middle brother who died at a very young age and Marvin Bishop Wooten was his grandfather’s brother. The latter died the day after I was born. Wondering if that was a coincidence.

I lost my dad to cancer on March 25, 2005. It was a Good Friday. He had been slipping away for weeks and wasn’t fully conscious those two weeks. The night before he died, I prayed the hardest prayer I ever prayed and told God it was okay to take him if it was his time. He died 8 hours later. Maybe the reason he held on for so long was because I wasn’t letting go.

Since I had a breakdown and my first mental health commitment at that time, sometimes I wonder if my dad quit fighting the cancer because he was tired of seeing me fail back then.

But since I believe in the spiritual world, thanks to my maternal grandmother, I am convinced that no one dies spiritually and am pretty convinced I can feel the presence of my parents and grandparents near me. Maybe that’s why I keep moving back to Dallas. Because that’s where the presence is the strongest.

Happy father’s day you dirty old man. Hope you’re enjoying my little shit Show of a life from where you’re at. I am here to serve.

Oh I forgot to mention my dad’s nickname was Sonny by those he grew up with in California. My Texas friends always get a good laugh out of that.