Hi, I'm Kayla Bowers.
I'm a Tennessee based Mom who who enjoys sharing my experiences with homesteading, gardening, our cabin life, marriage, and authenticity.
It’s been a while since I’ve written here. A lot has happened. Some of it has been beautiful. Some of it has broken my heart. And if I’m being honest, I didn’t know if I’d come back to blogging at all.
But lately, I’ve felt a quiet pull to write again. Maybe it’s this new laptop. Maybe it’s the way music hits different lately. Or maybe it’s just time.
The quiet reminds me of him
Since losing my Dad, the still moments are the hardest. When the world slows down, that’s when I feel the ache settle in. Music especially brings the memories rushing in. I was working out the other day, and Leaving on a Jet Plane came on. That was one of his favorites. I cried right there in the middle of squats. Then Yellow Brick Road by Elton John started. And today, randomly, The Sound of Silence played on my Pandora app. That one hit hard too. He loved that song. I couldn’t help but cry.
He loved music. I get my love for it from him.
The last thing he said to me
A few days before he passed from injuries in the accident, he called me over to his chair. He told me to bend down close. I laughed and said, “Dad, I’m not gonna pull your finger,” because he was always making his old fart jokes. But then he kissed me on the forehead and said, “I don’t tell you enough how proud I am of you.”
That moment will live in my heart forever. He told others too how proud he was of me. That means more than he’ll ever know.
What I said at his funeral
I want to share the speech I gave at Dad’s service here. It’s one of the most personal things I’ve ever written, but it feels right to include it.
Thank you for being here today to remember and celebrate my dad.
Growing up, I always felt safe because of him. Dad protected me. He was always there with strength, humor, and love.
First John 4:7 says, “Love one another, for love is of God, and every one that loveth is born of God and knoweth God.” Dad truly showed his love for God by loving and serving others. That brought him joy.
Dad made sure life was full of joy, even in the everyday things. When I was home-schooled the last two years Dad would say, “Katie Bob, come play cards and we’ll do chores after.” But the chores usually didn’t happen. He loved playing cards so much.
Or he’d call out, “Look at this part on TV,” and I’d say, “Dad, I’m supposed to be doing schoolwork.” But those moments, the laughter, the time together, I wouldn’t trade them for anything.
One of the many things Dad passed on to me was his love for Mustangs. It wasn’t just a car to him. It was a piece of passion and pride he shared with me.
Dad’s love language was food. He made sure we ate, even if it was those giant Hungry Man meals. I remember telling him one day, “Dad, did you know those have over 1,000 calories?” We just laughed. That was Dad. Simple, loving, and full of life.
I’ll never forget how he looked the first time Joel came to pick me up. No gun, just that intimidating Dad glare. But it didn’t take long before he loved Joel like his own. He’d tease him about a beer belly he didn’t even have, and they bonded over sports. That meant so much to me.
Some of my favorite memories with Dad were the ones where he lit up over the little things, like taking me to Dillard’s to pick out a black dress for Brandon and Rachael’s wedding, or Mom and Dad helping me find my wedding dress and saying with a proud smile, “This is the one.” He just knew.
Dad was proud of all his kids and grandkids. I know he was proud of Brandon, Rachael, and Emerson. He saw the amazing young man they were raising and was so proud of the family they’d built.
He had a special relationship with the grandkids. Zekey and him especially loved picking on each other. It was as if they spoke the same language. They had a bond that was full of laughter and love. Zekey is a lot like his Poppy. And Dad loved picking out songs for Zoe to sing to him.
Art was something he shared with all of us too. Me, Zoe, and Zekey love art because of him.
If I could change anything, it would be the pain he went through. But I wouldn’t change his warm heart, his humor, or the way he showed up for us. I wouldn’t change how he loved, deeply and with his whole heart.
I’ll miss him calling me Bob or Katie Bob. That name, his voice, his presence, it will stay with me forever.
We had a bond I couldn’t forget if I tried.
And through all of this, I choose love, because that’s what Dad gave us. Every single day.
Thank you, Dad. We love you!
I also wish I had my brother’s wonderful speech to share here. It was humorous, heartfelt, and just so Dad. He had us all laughing through tears, sharing stories that brought out the playful, stubborn, funny side of our father, the parts we all loved so much. It was a beautiful reminder of who Dad was and how deeply he was loved.
I never thought I’d be writing this
I didn’t think I’d ever be making a blog post about losing my dad. There were times we thought we might lose him, especially during the hardest COVID months. He was hospitalized twice and had COPD, even though he never smoked a day in his life. He had asthma as a kid and lived with rheumatoid arthritis and others things too. But he kept going. Always.
Dad was a hard worker. He started working in a factory at 17 and stayed there for nearly 25 years until it shut down. He made some of the best friendships of his life working there. I saw a few of those friends at his funeral, and it meant a lot. Others had already passed. That place was tough, but it shaped people and created bonds that lasted a lifetime.
Later, he went back to school for greenhouse management. That makes me smile, because we’d always ask him for planting advice. He loved nature, and it just made sense for him to pour into it.
His life had so much love, but also a lot of loss. During COVID, he lost his Aunt Polly, and not long after, her husband Uncle Charlie died too. Maybe it was COVID, maybe heartbreak. His sister Jamie passed too, after wrecking on the same road where my parents later had their accident. Jamie died in the hospital from pneumonia after the crash. It’s a road that holds too much pain now.
When we almost lost Dad during COVID, it felt like a part of me was dying too. I’m so much like my dad. A big way we bonded was through the outdoors. He taught me how to mow and weed-eat, and we both loved being outside. So many people helped us pray during that time, and I’m so thankful we had more time with him after that. Time for him to be with his grandkids, time to make more memories, time to say things that mattered. If he had passed then, my kids would have been too young to remember. But now they do. And that’s something I will always hold close.
In the middle of grief, there’s still love
Even while missing him, I’ve felt so much love. From friends. From family. From strangers who’ve shown kindness when I didn’t have the words. That love has carried me.
And in the middle of all of this, I’ve been finishing The Book of Hope, a little tribute to our sweet cat who brought comfort in some of our hardest times. I’m going to be sharing it soon.
We’re still working on our fixer upper, and my sourdough obsession is going strong. There’s something peaceful about kneading dough and watching it rise. It’s slow, but it’s full of life. And maybe that’s the season I’m in now. Slow, but full of life.
Moving forward, gently
I don’t know how often I’ll blog, and that’s okay. I just know I want to write from a place of peace, not pressure. And I knew this had to be my first post back. A post for my dad. A post full of love.
Before I go, I’d love to ask for your prayers for me, my family, and especially for my Mom.
She was in the car wreck too and isn’t getting around very well right now. On top of the physical pain, she’s also grieving the loss of the love of her life. She and Dad were married for 41 years. It wasn’t a perfect relationship, but it was real, and they definitely loved each other. They always found their way back to one another.
Please pray for strength, comfort, and healing for all of us. We’re taking it one day at a time, leaning on love and faith to carry us through.
If you’ve lost someone, or if you’re grieving in your own way, I hope this makes you feel a little less alone.
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