Daddy's Box

Isn’t something wrong in a world where batteries live longer than people?

Of course, this is a nonsense thought. People live far longer, and productively, than batteries. I am just mourning, and lost in my own thoughts.

What will people find when I am gone? What will they find five years in my unforgotten and dusty box? Will it bring tears or laughter? What will I live behind for my children, my husband, the world?

I think, as a society, we should look carefully at our “boxes” and what is stored there. Are we living our life the way we should? Are we happy, content, fulfilled?

I wish everyone could live a life filled with love, laughter, hope, freedom, desire, and innocence. And then, when they are gone, they leave in their boxes items that will make those who loved them remember the good, and bad times. Because this is what life is about.

Living our life to the fullest, and then passing the future on to our children.

Thank you daddy. You have given me many wonderful gifts over the years, but, perhaps, none so lovely as that dusty, bent cardboard box filled with secret hints and memories of the man I called daddy. I have your comb, to show my kids, and the stories and memories in my mind to make you come alive as you comb your hair and use that certain hair tonic you always used.

I have your cuff link and the memories of your love to dress in suits, and ties.

I have your receipts, reminding me that you liked to smoke, even when we tried to make you stop, and that you often had heart burn.

I have your small bible to remind me that you never gave up on God, and on getting to a better place in your own mind and soul.

And, most amazing, I have your drawing. It reminds me that you never had the opportunities that I had, never able to receive lessons, yet, still you grew and learned and taught your heart what it wanted to know. You reached above yourself, and you never stopped learning. You never stopped wanting to make us laugh.

Thanks, daddy. I laughed tonight, and I cried, but, most of all, I missed you and wished that you were in that dusty box. But, perhaps, you were.

Go To Page: 1 2