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Me on the 2000 Heritage Softail Classic
The Clan
    
  
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Cassidy and Dad after graduation

                  May 1993
Cassidy wins his first of two state titles in over-time.

                                  1992
Denny and Mary's wild bunch

                My nieces
Cassidy and Allison's little squirt

             My grandson
           The Clan

August, 2001- Mom's special birthday!
Standing From left :(Cassidy Presgrove, Allison), (Denny and Mary Presgrove, Chole Presgrove),
(Jordon and Jennifer Suson), Mom, Jimmy Rankin, Harold Akers, Todd G.      
Bottom row, Terry (holding Ethan), Delaney Presgrove, Sonya Akers, Jana Rankin, Krystal G.
Taken in 2001- Cassidy, Me and the Vette
Page Link : Updated
11/11/11
Newt and I
-Christmas                 
2002
Travel Link:
Terry Presgrove
This is quite personal and is not a poem. It took almost five years for me to sit down and
deal with these thoughts to my dad ( Denton Scott Presgrove ). Seeing the impact it has
had on others besides family,  I have decided to release it.

Dedicated to all those who have lost their father.-TP                                       
Original
07/17/02
Edited 08/24/06                                                                                                                 
                                      
A Letter to Dad

Dad,

It has been awhile since we have talked, so I thought it was about time that I wrote. I
miss you very much, although I know you are much happier in your new home. Mom
misses you too and is very lonely, struggling in your absence, but I'm sure you knew
that. Like you, she is tough and will go on doing her very best, even though she aches
to join you, the Father and the Son. More than forty years of intercessory prayer is a
long time to persevere, but she remains a beacon in the storm for all to follow and we
still need her here, unless the lord decides to move her to that beautiful yonder shore.

I have a wonderful grandson named Ethan, he is two years old now and a quite the little
toot, the spitting image of his dad. Also, Delaney has a sister named Chole, she is three
and a double hand full. Mom just told me about her going to vacation Bible School and
when she returned home, after being asked how it went said, " they pushed me down
and gave me a cookie made of wood".....lol (laughing out loud).

Knowing you as I do, I am certain you are following orders from the throne; that chain
of command and involved in every detail ( your allowed access to), particularly that
relates to us and all that is about to occur. I know you are checking on us every possible
chance you get. And you are surely a thorn in the side of the lord when it comes to your
children, pestering him continually to guide, guard and direct and always quizzing about
His coming, particularly relating to the scheduling.

I can see you encouraging and having filled in so many of the family on the latest news
from here when you arrived with them. On a personal note, I hope you would tell Joe
how sorry I am for blaming him. I know he has forgiven long before this and that all is
well between you two in your fellowship and worship of our Lord.

I don't mean to embarrass you, but a few things never quite got said. No son or
daugh-ter ever in the annals of the history of man ever had a better dad. Your love for
us kids transcends sense. No earthly father could ever love us more than our dad, Dent.
Tears trickling, can only hint at the gratitude and no amount of consideration on our
part could ever make a dent on what you have done in love for us kids. Your courage
goes beyond that known by mortal men. You know I served along side of some of the
most decorated Marines in Vietnam and yet, I tell you in facing life or death I never
crossed paths with anyone on this earth that exceeded your courage and everyday
bravery.

I doubt that you would have noticed, but that early A.M., when you raised up and point-
ed with your eyes open wide (just before you departed), that scared the pajama's off
that poor Hospice nurse. I think Sis even had to counsel with her over that. But for
family and friends it remains a great source of heavenly encouragement. That celes-
tial sign is a constant reminder of the reality of life after this.

Mom, Denny, Jana, Sonya say Hi and Harold is not the same without those Dallas
Cowboy debates, Tommy retired and said, "there are hardly any good hands left." I
hurt my back, but getting ready to go back and try to hit it again. You know how that
drill goes.

All your lineage is doing well and anxiously looking forward to that day when we get to
see you again.

Love ya Dad,

Sorry to carry on so,

Your son,

Terry
Counter
Lisa and I were married on April 10, 2008.
War, A Mother's Perspective currently published by "Combat," in its
Spring, 2004 edition. This poem is written by my mother,
Janell
Presgrove.

Note: Mother passed away, as a result of a tragic accident, on
October 13, 2005.
                            We miss her dearly.
Unfortunately the destination links for
this page are broken. Simply scroll down
to view pictures.

~ Mother ~

She is the essence
Of the very first memory
Life sustaining energy
My first love, friend
And original enemy

She is that scream
Of terror in the dream
And the sweetest sound
That will ever serenade
In a stereo-parade

She is the seasoned salt
That defines each shed tear
Always encouraging to persevere
And within her forever embrace
There is never a fear

I hear the resounding echo
Of her endearing laughter
In each day's chatter
And in every single chapter
Of my life that matters

She is best known
For those Sunday roasts
Being a prayer warrior of hosts
Desiring revival coast to coast
And the Savior that she boasts

She soars above the eagle's wing
Bathing in the sweet savor of spring
It's that mother nature thing
That passes on the genetic ring
And gives me the poetry to sing

She has set my foundations
Deep in the inward parts
And when I went astray
They pointed out the charts
That brought me home to stay

Her saintly wisdom shines
Through all the storms of life
Like a neon - truth rainbow
That flashes beyond the strife
To the pot of gold for my soul

I know that she misses dad
And at times she must be sad
But her steadfastness makes me glad
That I have a mother
Who finely raised a lad