My D’daddy

Tomorrow I was planning on announcing a new service we are going to start offering here on Kiwi and Peach— The Meal Plan. We were going to share a sneak peak of a weekly meal plan and grocery list that would take all the guess work out of dinner time. I was also going to talk about our food philosophy and talk about why we eat {and suggest} what we do.

But I’m not going to. I will eventually, but it will not be tomorrow.

We try to focus on the positive here. We try not to let life’s ups and downs affect our tone and material, but sometimes real life just can’t be glossed over.
Things might be silent around here for a week or so, and I feel like you should know why.

My D'Daddy from Kiwi and Peach

This morning my granddad, my D’Daddy, passed away.

He was 87 and, while his health had deteriorated considerably and he had not been himself in quite some time, the end was quite sudden but thankfully, quite peaceful.

Diane Ackerman is quoted as saying, “I don’t want to get to the end of my life and find that I just lived the length of it. I want to live the width of it as well.”

From living in Japan for four years to running a farm, starting a business, helping to found a hospital and a bank,  being married for nearly 65 years, and raising two strong, beautiful daughters, he certainly did that.

To me he is my cocky, incredibly self-assured D’daddy who bought me a horse first and then taught me to ride.

He was always a man who knew things. {Except how to work a microwave, he never did learn how to do that.}

He taught me the importance of building relationships—it is, after all, all about who you know.

He’s the one who taught me that a big watermelon shared with family and a seed spitting contest is the perfect way to cool down on a hot summer day in Georgia.

My D'Daddy from Kiwi and Peach

My D'Daddy from Kiwi and Peach

My D'Daddy from Kiwi and Peach

My D'Daddy from Kiwi and Peach

My D'Daddy from Kiwi and Peach

When he was living in Okinawa just after WWII ended, he managed a hotel where the military officers went for R&R. When it came time for him to leave, the head housekeeper, Mama San he called her, who according to him had to be at least 100, gave him a precious gift—two pearls that had been in her family for years. Precious and some might say prophetic. He came back to the States, married my Memommy, and they had two little girls, my aunt and my mama.

When I was 21, the pearl, which had been set in a ring, was handed down to me. I know I am incredibly lucky to have had this man in my life for as long as I did.  Everyday when I see it, I’m reminded of all he taught me; the importance of family, the importance of having confidence on myself and my abilities, and most importantly, how to spit a watermelon seed.

I love you, D’daddy.

Please keep us in your thoughts tomorrow as we try to navigate our way back to Georgia and through the mess that is Atlanta so that we can be with family.