A boy named Sue.....
Sunday morning coming down....
Every time I hear music from Johnny Cash, I think of my father.
My sweet dad died May 31, 1973.
In the icy waters of the most northern point of the Northwest Territories, not far from Greenland.
My father's life ended tragically, he was 36. I was 10.
I could literally feel my heart breaking.
My father was on a one year contact as a cooking chef for a company that services remote work stations in the Territories.
One night as they were flying from station to station, the intoxicated helicopter pilot lost his bearings, flew into an early spring snow storm, and the helicopter violently crashed into solid ice terrain.
There were four men in that helicopter, all perished.
My father died at the hands of an intoxicated driver.
Why the Johnny Cash reference.
As a little girl, I remember my dad listening to Johnny signing away about Sunday mornings coming down, and a boy named Sue. And because he loved those songs, so did I.
I followed my father around like a shadow. Always trailing after him.
Asking all kinds of questions, and he would answer every single one.
I would sit in the passenger seat beside him in his pickup truck, and listen intensively as he taught me the roles of the road and how to be a good driver. I am 10, four feet tall, pig-tails in my hair.
Of course, I never go behind the wheel, but I was convinced I could easily drive a car if the occasion should every arise!
So for 39 years, every Sunday morning,
I think of Johnny Cash, pick-up trucks and the best father in the world.
Sometimes.......some broken hearts just never mend.