Silverware at Six

I woke up around 0600 unable to breathe through my nose and thinking about silverware. Not just any silverware, but my mom's silverware. It wasn't so much the utensils themselves as the way in which they were acquired.

It was shortly before Christmas 2008. I was in E-Ville babysitting my 4 year old niece for the day when Dad called. He knew that I had to go to Des Moines later in the day to pick up Maddie and wondered if I wanted to go early. He needed to get new glasses and get a gift for Mom. 45 minutes later I had Anna packed in the car with enough activities to keep her busy for a while and met Dad in the Wal-Mart parking lot. We took back roads all the way to Des Moines while he pointed out the borders of what used to be my grandpa's farmland and who lived where. We made small talk as he navigated me through small towns eventually leading to the vision center. Anna had fallen asleep in the car, so I waited in the car with her while Dad went on in to start the eye exam.

A few minutes later Anna woke up and we joined Dad in the store. The exam was complete and he was looking for frames. Any of you who know my dad know that he didn't necessarily just try on frames that he was perhaps interested in purchasing, but anything that would generate a laugh or make him look ridiculous. At on point, he had put his hat on crooked, removed his partial plate from his mouth, placed them in his shirt pocket, and applied some bulky black glasses. He thought it would be so fun to take those home and tell mom that this was his "new look." I just so happened to have my phone camera handy. Dad happily obliged to have his picture taken to memorialize his moment of coolness.

After selecting more appropriate frames, we headed back to the car where it was discovered that I had left my lights on. The battery was flat. Dad laughed, which he often did at the small mishaps of life. He found someone to give us a jump and we were on our way to the mall for lunch and a little shopping. The silverware caught Dad's eye and he selected a set he liked for Mom for Christmas. We took Anna to Build-A-Bear, picked up Maddie and headed for home.

Oh what I wouldn't do for another day like that with my dad. A day to just talk about whatever came to mind and spend time together. Little did I know that that would be the last time we would take to have a spontaneous outing. More or less that our last Christmas together was just around the corner. In those days it seemed like we still had forever. The thought of him not being around for a long time yet had never even crossed my mind.

As the holidays approach again this year I challenge myself to make moments count. Moments that may seem insignificant at the time--something as simple as silverware shopping--may all be reduced to memories all too soon when those we love are no longer with us. It's one of the many things I have learned through this painful journey of loss. Sometimes I wonder how long missing him will hurt. Maybe forever. It is what I do with this still hurting still longing heart that makes the difference between honoring him and bearing a burden, and I only hope that I can continue to find ways that it can be a vessel of change to form a more appreciative, more attentive, more loving me.