I called my mom yesterday afternoon to wish her a happy Easter. We chatted for a while. As we prepared to hang up, the words almost escaped. They were right there, unsaid. ” Can I talk with dad?”
I know I’m not unique. I know that we lose our parents. I know that those odd, painful moments sneak up on many of us. The thing is, it’s unique because everyone didn’t have him in their lives and I am his daughter. So, the tears are unique.
He loved Easter. Loved it. His favorite thing was Easter brunch after church, after the grandchildren had baskets full of eggs, and we all sat down together at the table.
He loved scrambled eggs, bacon, and buttered toast. I am exactly like my grandma(dad’s mom), and almost always have coffee with the meal. Not dad. A glass of milk for him. On Easter, sometimes mom would make special, fancier dishes, but he really preferred the tried and true. With the exception of fresh oranges and bananas, fancy because served in crystal dishes.
I would often catch him looking at us, one by one. There was a smile in those sweet eyes. His legacy was laughing and eating together, especially when, unexpectedly, he would recall a Shakespeare poem from high school, and recite it to all of us.
I miss him, especially on Banana/Orange salad days.