Nesquik banks

I don't have any markers in my memory to place a date on this one. Maybe one of my siblings or Mom will remember. One holiday season, Dad decided to decorate old Nesquik cocoa tins with construction paper and make them into coin banks. Each night or few nights, he would put loose change in them after we went to bed. Hearing him drop coins in them as I drifted off did a lot to heighten my anticipation for Christmas morning. I think he did that just one year. It was neat and it's one of my favorite holiday season memories.

My anniversary

Today it has been 10 years since Phil and I got married. It's been a tough day because my memories of that day are full of Dad. Great memories, but still hard to remember. So today, we decided not to make a big deal of the day with a big celebration. We all went out to lunch and then for ice cream, then spent the afternoon watching the movie, Heidi. Ugh, it's such a tearjerker and about a grandfather and granddaughter, as you know. I'm not sure it was the best choice for today. Phil and the girls are going out to get a pizza so I don't have to cook.

One of Phil's favorite memories from our wedding involves Dad. Mom and Dad had left the veil in their car the morning of the wedding (Colleen had made it for me). Mom was with me at the church getting ready but Dad was somewhere else and he had the car keys! So off Phil went find Dad. Well, apparently he passed him in the lobby 3 or 4 times before he noticed Dad, who was reading the newspaper. Dad had noticed Phil but hadn't thought anything of it. It made for a good laugh, though I think I'm not telling the story well.

Ah well. I'm glad that Dad had such a good time. It was a great day/weekend and it makes me so happy to know that my Dad was over the moon happy for me.

Dear Dad

I told you last time I saw you that Phil and I were struggling with the thought of losing our parents. Something about Phil reaching 50 made us take notice and realize that that day would come seemingly in a blink of an eye. I wondered what life would be like without you. Well, now I know. I'm wishing you were here to watch me continue to try to make sense of this life and to encourage me to find joy where I can. I'm sad today, wanting. "It's good to want," you would say. You are gone. You were an anchor and now I'm adrift. How do I enjoy that?