The other day when I rolled up the tube of toothpaste to get the little bit that was left in it I heard my Daddy say “There’s still some left.” My dad was the master at toothpaste tube rolling and getting the very last bit out of the tube. I might even remember him cutting the tube open to get the last little bit out to put on his toothbrush. Isn’t it just so funny how little ordinary things in an otherwise ordinary day bring back extraordinary memories of someone? That tube of toothpaste brought my Daddy to mind and I have had him on my mind ever since.
I think my Mother’s death has replaced my missing my Daddy the past couple of years and I guess it makes sense. With her death I no longer have any parents alive and it carries a different feeling, doesn’t it? Having lost Daddy so long ago (1994) he had been the focus of my grief for so long that it felt odd to replace that grief with grief over my mom’s death. But grief is one of those weird things – it hits you at different times and in different ways.
So when I saw that toothpaste tube and remembered my Daddy’s ability to squeeze out the last bit it hit me again how much I miss him but also how much he loved me. It makes me wonder how families do it without love and I know that there are many that have far different relations and memories of their parents than I have. I am so grateful for the life that they gave me.
It’s funny how something like a toothpaste tube can evoke memories, isn’t it? And how grief can come in waves when least expected but how that grief can turn into gratefulness and happiness. Today I choose happiness as I squeeze that little bit out of my spent toothpaste tube. What about you?