March was the 20th anniversary of my father's death. Hard to believe it has been that long because I think of him almost daily in some compacity or another and I feel him more often than not. (Usually accompanied by the smell of cigar smoke)
Today was the 4th anniversary of my mother's death. Can't wrap my head around that time either. I think of her every time I stare into the mirror. I've got her back hump, her mouth, and more of her traits than I care to list here.
Between these two dates and a conversation with my MIL, I realized that I have tons of daily happenings that occur where I'm constantly reminded of so many people in my life that have died. People tell you this will happen after a death, but at the time, you aren't ready to deal or you aren't hearing things too clearly or you just think blah, blah, blah. It's later, as you go about your daily routine that something happens and BOOM there it is.
My dad - My dad was the King of stories, whether telling them or headlining them. Crazy things happened to the man. Like the time he super glued his elbow to the steering wheel while he was repairing something in his car while lying half in and half out of the vehicle. On his back, head in, legs out, cigar in his mouth. He was in that position for a good half an hour before he saw the neighbor's teenage daughter arrive home from school. He shouted and shouted at her, calling her name, and she kept searching for the owner of the voice, sure she was going crazy because she couldn't see anyone. Eventually, they got it right, she rescued my dad, and the story was to his repertoire.
My youngest reminds me of him. That girl can tell a story, with complete details and timing, to rival any my dad told. She also stars in many of her stories and doesn't mind revealing those anecdotes, even if she is the butt of the joke. People say she is a lot like me in the chattiness, but let's be honest, I got that from him. She also wakes up happy like my dad did, bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, as he would say, ready to take on the day.
I also think of him every night when I blow my hair dry. Because showering at night, and blow drying my hair, is something I've done since I was a kid, and each night as I start the instrument and use my brush I think of my dad. Who would wander past my room and ask, "Getting beautiful in case you meet someone in your dreams?"
My friend Murphy - Murphy was a hoot. I met him at my job when he came almost daily to swim laps and do aerobic exercises. Those he did in the deep end right by the lifeguard stand, and he'd talk and listen to us talk, offering up advice or just mess with us. I considered him a dear friend. One of the things did that drove me nuts was belch. He'd be in the deep end working away and he'd belch loudly. It could be in the middle of a conversation or just in the silence as he jogged with his buoys, but he never acknowledged it or excused it. One day, I got on him. "Murph, did your mother not tell you that you should say excuse me after you burp?" He thought that hilarious. I told him I knew his wife didn't behave like that and surely got on him to which he replied, as he always did when talking about her, "Nancy rules the roost. What every Nanu says, goes." But after that conversation, every time he belched, no matter where he was in the pool, he would stop and say, "Excuse me, Cara." It was downright hilarious.
I do the same thing now. I'm not a big belcher, but when I let it out either by accident or on purpose I always say, "Excuse me, Cara." And Murph comes to mind, and I smile.
My father-in-law - I've told this before a couple of times on my blog, but my FIL comes to mind every time I use spaghetti sauce. One evening while he sat in the kitchen while I cooked spaghetti I emptied the jar sauce into the pan, put some water in the jar and shook it to get all of the sauce out to add to the pan. It was something my mother taught me, and Roger commented on it, telling me he hadn't seen anyone do that since his own mother. He rarely talked, and if he did, it was minimal, and so for some reason, it warmed my heart. And that has stuck with me so that every time I add the water to the jar or can, I think of my FIL.
My mom - My mother lives on top of my china cabinet, and I communicate with her quite a bit. So many things remind me of her; books I read, comments I make, foods I cook. During the Olympics, she was there every night when I watched. The Tampa Bay Rays and IU basketball were two of her favorites teams and during those seasons I think of her. Her family turned to her for advice because the woman just knew things. She was like an encyclopedia and offered advice whether you wanted it or not. I think of her every time I butt into someone's life, offering up advice I know will change his/her life for the better. And then, I hear myself reminding my mom that sometimes keeping quiet is better, and then I hear my mom reminding me of my reminding her of this. It gives me a chuckle.
There are more people, aunts, and uncles, friends, cousins, co-workers, etc.and many occurrences that bring them to mind. I'm grateful for all of those because it keeps my loved ones in my heart and in my head. And in the end, I feel that I haven't lost them after all.
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