Sentimental Moment

Dad's his retirement, Nov 7th 1984, he died sixteen months later, Mom there beside him, died in1991 five years later also 66.


















Dad in his curling sweater, 1974









Christmas dinner 1966. This is Dad at the same age Darcy is now, I was 10, dad was 46. I always sat with him because he would
make sure I got dark meat, the white meat made me choke!















D'arcy wearing dads tweny five year old shirt!


Sentimental Moment

Friday Dec 22nd a Christmas Celebration with my Brother and his children. Basically my only family left, save my daughter. Bryan and Pepper had to work so we arrived a bit later than the others. We ate an hour later, a beautiful meal of stuffed pork roast. Everyone chatted, then as though an alarm had sounded, everyone dispersed at nine thirty, very strange indeed. We played cards with my niece and nephew for a short time, then Bryan, Darcy and I spent the rest of the night in intimate conversation. By ten Pepper had snuck to the couch, curled up, and dosed off. Half hour after I arrived home, Darcy called me; we talked a few hours more. Then yesterday I returned to his house. An extremely busy man, it can be hard to connect. When we do, it’s difficult to disconnect. We miss each other too much.

As we sat quietly reminiscing, it came out that he dreamt about mom every night for the first five years after her death. He was only thirty when we became adult orphans. He astonished me when he revealed a few of mom blouses and a shirt and sweater of dads that he harbored all these years.

There’s D’arcy proudly sporting his coveted curling sweater well over thirty years old. Take note of the orbs over D’Arcy’s heart, about three to his right torso and hand. It was such a sentimental moment, viewing the clothing, watching in anticipation as he tried on dads baby blue, silver threaded, striped shirt from the eighties. To have it actually fit his taut physique was quite a thrill. The emotional clincher was the surprising bar of soap stuffed in the pocket of dad’s sweater. He took it out; each of us had a sniff. With it came a lovely reminder of our dad. After twenty years the scent was still locked in that plastic container. And it was a Merry Christmas for us!


Sometimes you just know they’re around. With me, random lights flicker off for a spell. Doesn’t matter how much I tighten the bulbs, a variety of different lamps still flicker. This post is dedicated to Lisa Oceandreamer, who will have a bleak Christmas with the recent passing of her mom. I hope knowing there are others who truly understand the loss you feel as this time wish you all the besT. It's always a comforting reminder knowing that although our parents have passed on, memories live forever our hearts.


It’s just not Christmas without my dads favorite Christmas tune Nat Coles “The Christmas Song” filling the room at least a few times during the season!