one year

Nov. 25th, 2010 08:14 am
slowlyunfolding: (dock into stillness)
[personal profile] slowlyunfolding
Today marks one year since my dad passed away.

I forgot actually, as I was in the hustle & bustle of getting ready for work, still sleepy eyed, not fully present. Then that little niggling thing started at the back of my mind.

You've forgotten something.

So quiet, like the most intimate whisper, yet so precisely stated, it seemed loud enough to make me flinch.

Then, lightning bolt, I am jolted out of the sleep fog and I remember.


Cups of tea. If his tea had bubbles on top, dad would always chase them with his spoon & try to eat them up. He said they were 'money' and if you ever managed to eat the bubbles before they disappeared or broke, you would be rich.

Laps. I sat on my dad's lap a lot as a little girl. During story time, or scary movies, or my favourite was riding on the lawn mower with dad. Eventually I got too big & put his leg to sleep, but it was fun dodging tree branches & the danger element of being shredded by the lawn mower.

Blue plaid shirt. I've decided that all dads are required to own at least one blue plaid shirt, soft as velvet from all the washing. I stole dad's blue plaid shirt once for picture day when I was in grade 12. It was 87 times too big for me, but that didn't matter.

Quietness. Dad was always very quiet & very gentle. He always seemed out of time to me. I guess he was since he was 44 when I was born. His rebellious moment came for him at 12, when he stole the car & went into town. By 'car' I mean team of Clydesdale horses & by 'town' I mean the tiny, sleepy, ever watchful Ingersoll. Sometimes we couldn't quite communicate across this generational gap. I don't think he ever grasped computers or whatnot.

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