Sometimes I just trust that something will happen as it should, instead of fussing with ‘what might be appropriate’ at times when I really don’t have the answer anyway.
I knew I would want to honour my Dad on Father’s Day. He died a couple of years ago. (Halloween, in fact. What a guy. Such a magical man, such a magical time to cross over) But, there is a part of me that had this thought about Father’s Day: “If I ignore it, it will go away.” That’s the part that struggles with him not being here in mortal form.
And so, I just decided to put my painting artist hat on and paint ships all weekend. (That is more appropriate than one can imagine.. but that, dear readers, is far too long to explain in a blog.. it’s in novel #2… partly in process, but #1 is getting completed first.)
Anyway, I decided to trust. I knew something would happen. If you’ve read the previous post you’ll know I was supposed to be painting and ignoring the ‘other important projects’ like the new office chair that lays in pieces waiting for assembly. However, today, Dad’s wife, my stepmom, popped over for coffee. So, being a practical girl, I thought we could visit and I could assemble that chair. (since I don’t visit and paint very well)
First please note: My dad was a mechanical wizard. Owned and used every tool known to mankind.
It wasn’t a difficult task, but as I kept misplacing a bolt (either under my butt or already in my hand) I laughed and said, “Dad must think this is pretty funny.” I hadn’t consciously been thinking he was nearby, but alas.. the words were spoken.
Next, I was trying to get a little plastic thingy where it needed to go, and rather than grab a hammer from downstairs, I grabbed the ice cream scoop, further cracking up both Leona and I as we visualized Dad shaking his head with a smile. Even funnier, was that the scoop was Dad’s and has been in the family for .. well.. ever. And that made us look at each other with that look that says, “well, I’ll be darned, he is here!”
Next, I made him proud. Leona, now very involved in the assembly of the chair, suggested vice grips for the silly little plastic thingy. AND I had vice grips. Right there in the kitchen in the pot of spatula’s, wooden spoons, and other cooking utensils. (Ya, it’s a sign of my cooking skills I’m sure. Maybe I need them to release things I’ve melted together.. like pots, or something). I know Dad was proud that I had vice grips handy and that we got the job done.
Of course my Dad had given me those vice grips one year in my Christmas stocking. ( I do love tools.. a lot. I may not be so good using them, but I love them.)
In a blog post, can one really say enough to help others understand how true it is that Dad was nearby, and that we entertained him well? Perhaps not. But Leona and I knew.
The painting I just finished today will probably be named after him in some form. Wanna see? It’s not a good scan.. but here it is:
copyright 2009 by Janet L. Whitehead