I am extremely sentimental… to the point that it is sometimes annoying, even to me. I remember when my iron bit the dust a few years ago and I was so sad. Why you ask? … well because we received it as a wedding gift. So silly I know, but I remember who bought us that iron from our registry. I am just sentimental like that. I remember purchasing a diaper changing pad for a friend and telling her “whenever you change your babies diaper you will remember that we purchased this for you”. I guess I am a weirdo… ha ha. I just remember stuff like that. It helps me to remember to think about others and to think about the.
Just this week Beckham broke our tooth brush holder. Normally this would not be a big deal, but once again this was also a wedding gift from a sweet friend of mine. Someone whom I still adore. It makes me sad. You would think though after 12 years I would be immune to it, but nope… nostalgia – that’s what gets me every time.
When I went to college I remember two specific things that my mom sent with me that I still have. A purple laundry basket and a long cotton robe. A few months ago the handle on the purple laundry basket broke – I was so sad. Why? Why on earth would that make me sad? It was the one thing that took me back to a normal (whatever normal is) place with my childhood. The other thing was a robe. She insisted I take this robe. It wasn’t new… it was hers. My dad bought it for her when she was in the hospital giving birth to my little brother. It is 22 years old now… and I wear it weekly.
My sister in law got married a few years ago… Chris and I were both in the wedding. I left my robe in the hotel. I debated for a while on whether or not to call and have them ship me the robe. Long story short; I currently have the robe.
The robe comes with a significant amount of memories. Some of which I would like to forget. It reminds me so much of my dad due to the fact that he was the original purchaser of the robe. I loved my dad. Really I did. From the mind of a child he was a great dad… almost perfect. From the mind of an adult you see the mistakes, the failures, the selfishness. It is painful. It causes heartache. Heartache sucks – for lack of a better word. It hurts. Who wants to hurt?
As I write this I am asking myself, “why”… “why are you doing this”??? Why are you spilling these intimate details of yourself? My dad has been physically gone for almost five years, but he has been gone for much longer than that. To go from “daddy’s little girl” … to “daddy’s pride and joy” … to “who are you?… ” … is painful. It sucks and quite frankly I want to burn this robe.
I feel like even now after almost five years I get these small moments to morn the loss of my earthly father… and at this moment I am mourning.