By Ronnie Parris
As I write this, it’s with a heavy heart that I report our family has lost its patriarch. His name was Ivor Parris, born to Fred and Wilma Parris of Alarka. To me, I always just called him Dad. Growing up, he was bigger than life to me. I thought no man could outwork, outhunt or outfish him. He was my hero.
From my earliest memory I was his shadow, following him up our mountain creeks, carrying the wild trout he would catch using a forked stick for a stringer. Back then it was more than just sport; what we could bring home was supper for the day. Mom said he would leave the house carrying me to go hunting or fishing, carrying a diaper in one pocket and a bottle in the other. So, I guess it’s no wonder I ended up choosing to run a guide service for a living.
From the stories he would tell, I could remember little bits and pieces about my first few years in the woods, and I could see the pride in my dad’s face as he would recount our adventures. I remember him taking us to Wayah Bald, where I killed my first deer, up on Mason branch, where I killed my first rabbit and groundhog and many trips in the boat, catching walleye on Fontana. I could write all day of all places and trips in the woods where we made memories.
I remember the lessons he taught while we worked in the evenings after school when he got home from work. Dad wasn’t perfect but he always strived to be on the right side. He took us to church at East Alarka Baptist, where I first gave my soul to the Lord. He always said nothing else matters if you don’t know you’re right with God. I never heard him turn a neighbor or a stranger in need away.
Dad wasn’t an educated man and never finished high school. He quit in the ninth grade to help Papaw Fred with logging. This being said, Dad was one of the smartest people I ever knew. He could tear anything mechanical apart and fix it, regardless of problem. In the last few years dementia was taking a toll on Dad, stealing his memory little by little, but on January 7th it was a stroke and a heart attack that took him away from us.
I have a lot of selfish moments when I want him back. But I know from the life he lived, he’s finally made it home with Jesus. I know he’s reunited with his parents and siblings and many friends that had gone home before him. As bad as I miss him, all I can do now is try make him proud of me and do what I can for my family. Because family was Dad’s most prized possession.
In my mind, Dad is always with me. I can always feel his presence, and I know one day I’ll see him again and he will have a perfect mind and body. Until then, we will carry on like he would have wanted us to, living our best life in these beautiful mountains he loved so much.