34. Big Picture Luncheon

Today is 6 days from the first anniversary of Dad’s passing. I’ve committed to writing 40 stories about him as that day approaches. Forty Steady Stories.

My Uncle Rex has spear-headed an annual father-son luncheon every Christmas season for the last 24 years. I have gone every year that I’ve been in town and have loved seeing generations of men in the room.

This year the event was scheduled for tomorrow, December 23, but was unfortunately canceled due to current COVID concerns. It’s bittersweet for me. It would have been the first year I’ve gone without Dad being here, and in some ways, I was a little relieved when I heard a couple of days ago about it being canceled. It would have been tough walking in the door without him. At the same time, I would have loved to go and see old friends and generations of men all in the room together. It will be tough tomorrow thinking about all this around lunchtime.

The picture above is the last time Dad and I were able to go together. It was in 2019, and there’s one other guy in the picture. Let me tell you about him, since some of you might not know who he is.

Every time we have been to the father-son luncheon in the same year, we always sit together. Dad loved to sit with this guy whenever possible, and ALWAYS smiled when he saw him. They had an incredible love and respect for one another. Dad watched that young man grow up and has always been in his life until Dad passed last year.

When both were much younger, I saw them play together with Legos on the floor, laugh hard at each other’s jokes, and share a chocolate chip cookie or two. They even played guitar together several times. Last Christmas (2020) that young man visited with my dad and played guitar for him when Dad could no longer play. He sat beside my dad and held his hand often during those last few days of Dad’s life. He had a tender, tear-filled goodbye with Dad last year.

That young man on the left is named F. Armistead Cash IV. His mom and I call him Steady. He’s named after my hero — the guy on the right. And that picture above? It’s the last picture ever taken of just the three of us together.

For 34 nights, I’ve written stories about my dad. I’ve chronicled moments from when I was growing up, and stories from high school and college years. I’ve written about becoming an adult and the impact Dad had on me throughout his life and mine.

I’ve talked in previous posts about naming a door after him, and I’ve mentioned streets with his granddad name on them. And I hope and pray I’ve honored Dad in all that I’ve written.

But when I had my one chance 22 years ago to name the baby who I knew would be my only son, I chose his granddad’s — and my hero’s — name. I didn’t choose it because it’s a cool and unique name. I chose it because I wanted to name my son after the man I loved and respected the most in this world. I wanted to name my son after my dad.

I love these two men more than I can possibly express in this post.