Thursday, August 25, 2011

Flower boxes choke me up

I miss my Daddy today...

Tonight I spent a couple of hours in the garage making flower boxes for my front windows out of fence pickets. I carefully measured each piece (twice) and penciled in my cuts. I braced each piece of wood that smelled like sweet cedar as I sawed it into perfect rectangles...took my wood glue (cause daddy would have used glue) and spread it evenly on each piece before taking my nails and hammer, then I lost it. I hammered then cried...then hammered some more then stopped cause by that time I realized my eyes were completely closed doing the ugly-holycow-i-hope-nobody-ever-sees-this cry. Hammering my already chipped fingernails would have been no bueno.

I just miss him ya know?
It saddens me that my girls will never get to go fishing with a "real fisherman" and that he won't be able to bait their hook and help them cast out a line. Then when they feel a bite he'd coach them on how to reel it in, being careful to let them do the work for the whole experience. I'm sad we'll never get a handmade treasure again. Every Christmas he'd hand make the most beautiful things out of wood for each kid and his grandkids. They'll never see his Jim Carey impression or eat his homemade pizza. My girls deserve an old grandpa! The kind that are all wrinkly and smell of Jovan Musk. They play an acoustic guitar and sing in the most beautiful deep voice that soothes with each note, and the kind that know the answers to everything.
He was that.

The smell of freshly cut wood takes me back to my childhood. His garage was always full of sawdust, and his tools were carefully organized and labeled...engraved with his signature RBM. When I hammer a nail or smear wood glue i feel close to him. It chokes me up every time, cause I know he would have been so proud that I can do things that he may have never taught me...but I learned from watching him. I suspect he worried about his performance as a father. And, while in our early years he had his share of mistakes (all parents do). I never got to tell him that he really was a good Dad. He really did his job.
My flower boxes are gorgeous Dad! A few wonky spots here and there but, I did good. You taught me well...

1 comment:

  1. Oh, Michelle! I'm so sorry, your daddy was gone too soon. These are such wonderful memories you have of him, and the beautiful stories you have of you dad will be just as precious to your girls!