Whenever I visited my parents dad would always want to give me something from their home so I tried not to make any comments about ANY thing . No matter how I tried, when I was leaving he would hand me the object of my comment as a gift. I guess it didn't help that I already had all I needed and gifting to me would be difficult anyway. Or maybe it made up for what he couldn't give me when I was growing up.
I find myself now in a similar quandary with my own children. They are certainly capable of providing for themselves and of course even through college I met their practical needs but as time passes I want them to have the things that I love so that they will remember me after I am gone. Not to understand me - only to cause them to remember me in a good way. Like recipes from their childhood and flower bulbs, seeds or herbs from my garden that they can grow in theirs, my friends that love me and them too( see photo) My china cabinets are overflowing with teapots and teacups used by family and friends.
That was the gift my father really gave me - to know that spending time with family and friends sharing coffee, tea and stories is remembering him in the best way of all.
Dad wasn't so far off when he gave me those unwanted items. It wasn't their value or that I could even use them, but how much they would help me to remember him as my father forever.
And I do..........all the time
Now where is that old cowboy boot knickknack anyway?
