My Dad passed away…

My Dad passed away…

… on 5th of January 2012.

I miss him, but I see him every day. I see him in my mannerisms, the words I use and the swagger that I sometimes walk with. He is there when I cross my arms behind my head and yawn, and it is his influence that has me getting up early in the morning to get an excellent start to the day.

He always makes me make my bed when I get up – even now. Cheers, Dad, that is a great habit to have…

I caught sight of him today as I bit into a scone that was a triangle in shape. I had a flashback to a moment long gone. He was biting into a triangle scone at the lunch table and complaining that it should be round. Not triangle, what, why is it a triangle? He laughed.

‘It is an obstacle course to eat, and where is the enjoyment in that?’ He said to my mum as he winked at me. He was wearing his work clothes, and I played with the salt shaker with the pea inside.

I awkwardly bit into a triangle-shaped scone as I sat at the window seat in the busy Starbucks. I am sure the people passing by saw my crumbly mess, it was nothing to them, but it meant something to me. It was a trigger for a beautiful memory that was painted so colourfully in my mind’s eye and passed in a flash.

It is a beautiful memory to experience, and they have a tendency to pop up at times when you need the influence.

I rubbed my face clear of the crumbs of the scone with the back of my thumb.

It is all him, and it is all me. 

I am a father, and I hope someday that my son can still see me in him when I am long gone. 

It brings it home just how we, as humans, are always watching and soaking up so much of the information that we are bombarded within everyday life. 

Our mind does a tremendous job at filtering out the noise and filing the important stuff so that we can recall it when we need it. Our heads also excel at keeping in mind what is important to us and what keeps us out of danger and working towards our daily responsibilities.

But glitches happen.

The triggers that take us back to a time long gone are an essential part of being alive. This is an example of our perfect imperfections as humans.

On the flip side, as a father, I should make sure the images that my son flashes back to are positive, and they stir the correct thoughts.

So when he says back at me when we are on the FaceTime call…

‘Dad, do you remember that time when…’

I always know he has the fondest of memories, and I have done a half-decent job, but I have the opportunity to improve.

We laugh on facetime, my son and I.

And I cry inside with pride.

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