For a long time after my dad died, I would get in the car after work and think I should call Dad. Being that while he was alive I called him basically every day at that time to check in, I guess it wasn't that strange that the urge didn't just die with him. But, it still made me sad every time when I remembered that the call wouldn't go through.
Then I had kids, and my life got busy tending to them. I didn't work anymore, so that routine was broken and the sadness that came every day finally eased.
The last couple of days the kids and I have been spending a little more time than usual in the car running errands. And twice I've thought I should call Dad. Thankfully, I don't feel that overwhelming sadness when it happens now. Instead I just think about how bizarre it is.
Jack and I picked up a bunch of acorns from the backyard last week. I began hunting through my cupboards for a pretty dish to put them in when I came across this depression glass bowl that was my dad's. I remember my dad telling me that when he was a kid smaller glass bowls, which I also have, came in oatmeal containers. His family saved them and sent in enough oatmeal labels to get one of these larger bowls as well.
For a few days, the bowl of acorns was alone on the table. Then the Pottery Barn catalog came in the mail. I saw lots of little owls decorating the table and thought of all of my dad's owls. I have packed almost all of them away, but I left one in my bedroom to remind me of Dad. It joined the acorns on the table.
The table still didn't look exactly how I wanted it to, so I looked around the house for something else that was a little taller. The jug pictured, from my Dad's stairwell, was perfect. So now there are three pieces on my dining room table that remind me of my dad that I walk by many times a day. Wouldn't it be nice if I could just give him a call and tell him about it?
