Friday, August 13, 2010

Do you know?

Do you know

how any times I forget you aren't here Dad?

like in the grocery store yesterday when I saw the red fall-smelling apples.  My first thought... Ohhh, I'll make an apple crisp with these and Dad will love it.

Do you know

nobody else will care whether I make an apple crisp, or I don't make an apple crisp?  Do you?

Who knew stupid apples would cause me to break down?

Do you know

when I walked into your old house last night,  I saw your shoes on the step, and your cap on the hook, and I hurried around the corner expecting to see you sitting?  I hate I have to remember time and again I won't... see you.

Do you know

with the whirlwind of company and commotion I felt like I was doing well?  Till they left... and now its quiet again and the familiar ache came sneaking back.

Do you know

I found you, anyways?  You were waiting for me in places I hadn't expected.  Under the stash of your old army photos, you were in your letters home to your parents.  Reading your words I could hear your voice in my head.  You wrote about guard duty in Germany, KP duty, inspections, and the weather.  You reminded me, my love for the small details in life, came from you.  I am my father's daughter.

Do you know

the last bit I read was the part about you breaking your watch?   I think you left that part just for me, so I would know you were there.  What was it with you and your watches that always seemed to get misplaced or broken all the time?

I know, you know.

Earlier mom told me she thought she'd donate your watch.  But I asked for it.  Not because of its inherent value, I mean its just an old timex.  But something urged me to keep it.


You know, I know.

For once, that watch of yours is completely intact, and despite numerous trips to the hospital and back, you still managed not to lose it.  I think you knew, I'd need it.  All along...

You knew.

17 comments:

  1. Vicky

    this is a sweet expression of grief and love. My Dad was also very attached to his watch (also an inexpensive number - the valuable one given when he retired was still in its box packed away safely)right til the end. He would check the time with regularity and play with the watch band...I think it occupied his mind.

    Thinking of you
    Happy days

    ReplyDelete
  2. I feel deeply touched by your tender words to your father Vicky. I'm sure he also knew how deeply devoted you were/are to him.

    ReplyDelete
  3. I am so sorry Vicky. The days go by, your boys need to go places, and it's easy to forget what is lying just beneath your surface.
    Your dad must be proud to have such a wonderful daughter.

    ReplyDelete
  4. I know those moments well, Vicky, of wanting to share family news with my mother, just after she passed. I have her and my dad's watches!

    ReplyDelete
  5. Beautiful words as always, and I know exactly what you mean. I remember the day after we buried my Mom, we were having a discussion about some of the relatives that attended and there was a question about who was who. I said without thinking, I'll call mom and find out.
    But, as you have learned, I couldn't.
    And your thoughts on the watch....it's funny, when my Dad passed many years ago, the most intense negotiations among my siblings was who was to get Dad's watch.
    It interesting how these little things mean so much.

    ReplyDelete
  6. This is a beautiful post! You had such a wonderful relationship with your dad that has carried and will continue to carry you through the sad times. He knew...

    ReplyDelete
  7. Oh, my sweet girl. I just wrote a post like this last night. For the first time in my life I find myself writing ahead because of the things I have to say about him. And then I think of you, knowing you're thinking the same things and longing for your own version of what I lost.

    I love you. And you are so not alone.

    ReplyDelete
  8. Hi Vicky! I'm so glad you are able to write your thoughts here so beautifully. I can understand your feelings even though I am not going through what you are and I am sorry for your grief. Know you are loved and appreciated for what you share with us. Hope to see you soon!

    ReplyDelete
  9. What an enormous ache for you, Vicky. I'm so, SO sorry. What enormous joy you must have brought him in his life. To be loved so deeply by someone like you....you gave him exactly what he deserved. The watch is a beautiful reminder that he is now where time doesn't matter and there will be a "time" when you are together again. Forever.

    I love you.

    ReplyDelete
  10. Delwyn, there seems to be something quite universal about the appeal of a loved one's watch. As I read through the comments it seems to be a common theme. I love hearing about your Dad, I still recall the organized shop he had and his meticulous care of his tools. I know your loss is also recent, thanks for the encouragement :)

    Bonnie, I don't know if he thought of me as devoted or not, and yet I am content knowing I at least tried really hard. Thanks for your continued support Bonnie, its most appreciated.

    Bonnie S., although he never really revealed his feelings towards us in an overt way, I think the undercurrent was that he cared deeply and was proud of both my brother and I... thanks for thinking of me :)

    ReplyDelete
  11. Wanda, what is it about those watches? Maybe its just such an intimate part of them? Yes, wanting to share news has gotten me a few times too... thanks for making me feel not alone :)

    Mark, did you end up with the watch then? I am glad you shared about your experience as well... I am finding all of these anecdotes to be interesting and it certainly makes you realize this is something we all go through. Thanks for your insight and support :)

    Missy, thank you :) I think you are right, it will sustain me.

    Gitz, I almost called you that night (I just didn't have your number in my phone) but it would have sounded like blubbering gibberish and when I faced it alone, I got through okay. I know, that you know too, sweet girl. We'll just keep being there for each other...

    Heather, I am always so happy when you show up here :) Thank you for your kind words. I know what we can both relate to is having a dad who is sick and fighting for quality of life... me in the past tense and you in the present tense... Praying for you and your Dad... see you soon :)

    Robynn, what a great metaphor I hadn't thought of about the watch... time, yes. We never really overtly expressed our feelings I have to admit, but somehow I was secure in feeling like it was just understood. Love you too :)

    ReplyDelete
  12. I love the form of how you've chosen to express this: Do you know? - it's brilliant - because it requires an answer - and faith.

    I hate to tell you this, but months from now, maybe even years, you'll think you've come to the end of your grief and there might be a moment when it strikes you again - it will innocently cross your mind that you no longer have a dad and it will be a new emotion to process.

    ReplyDelete
  13. You have shared your heart so well, Vicky ... and touched ours. For me it is a couple of carvings that my father did. It's almost as though I can feel his touch when I hold them

    ReplyDelete
  14. My heart deeply aches for you and I feel every word and every emotion. Words really provide no consolation I know. I just want you to be strong. Not just on the outside but from the inside as well Vicky. I know your dad would want the same. Loads of love to you.

    ReplyDelete
  15. I just "happened" here and I am sure it was not by accident. The strange thing about grief is that we can prepare for it when we see it coming--obvious times like holidays or anniversaries. It's the ones that sneak up and smack you in the face that are hard. Saying a little prayer for you.~~Susan

    ReplyDelete
  16. Grief sneaks up on us all the time. My dad has been gone 10 years and I'm often taken aback when the tears hit me. My dad's watch was one of the last things I focused on when he was in the hospital. He was so frail and the watch went right down his forearm. I can't get that image away from me.

    My dad left me a book and he wrote a little something in it. I read that inscription and it feels like an embrace from you.

    Hugs to you my friend. You're beautiful inside and out.

    ReplyDelete
  17. Vicky...people used to tell me that Mom would not really ever be gone. I bristled at that since almost every morning for a year I started to reach for the phone to call her. It sure felt like she was gone.
    But slowly, even in the early days of grief, I felt her with me. Like your dad's watch, certain things seemed to connect me with her.
    These days I often fight tears as I see a part of her in one of my girls.
    Gosh just last night we were driving far from our house, nearer to Mom and Dad's ...and I saw her old church and was immediately taken back to Sunday mornings meeting her there. I could smell her Chanel no.5 and remembered a particular Sunday dress...
    The memories so precious to me opened the door to grief and for a moment it was fresh and painful

    I welcome these visitations of memory and grief because it ever reminds me of her completely important she was and will always be to me.

    I'm so praying for your tender wounded heart my friend...sending love and hugs

    ReplyDelete

I welcome what you have to say. Thanks for taking the time to grace me with your thoughts and words!

When you get lucky

When you get lucky

Popular Posts

Minnesota.com

Minnesota.com - MN Weather, Map, Businesses and Blogs