Making a memory ...I miss you

Home is where the heart is, not the address.  It has taken me almost a lifetime to really realize what the word "home" meant.  For most people, home is where you grew up as a child.  For my family, it was different.  We traveled due to my father's employment.  As far as I can remember, I went to 10 elementary schools, 3 junior highs and 3 high schools.  There are only a few buildings that I lived in as a child that I actually remember.  Mostly it was a memory in the house, not the house it's self.  There are only a few houses, I remember for various reasons, like counting 101 steps to the front door. That was hard work.  I remember that house, because it was in that house, my mother brought home a baby sister for me eight years my junior.  There was another house, I distinctly remember because the doors had skeleton key locks.  It was there I wanted a pony for my birthday, I was only seven.  Of course it was impossible to fulfill that dream of a little girl but my father tried.  He rented a pony for my birthday.  It was in that house I thought my father made coins fly through the air, so I thought.  Sitting on the kitchen table was a pink plastic sugar bowl.  Daddy would say, close your eyes, then he would lift the lid, and inside was a nickel.  Daddy was quite clever, he would yell to my mother," remember that nickel in the bathroom"?  "Did you see it"?  "Because here it is"!  I just knew my daddy could do magic.  I still remember that little pink plastic sugar bowl.  Oh yeah, I also had the measles in that house.  In those days if you had the measles, you were kept in the dark for weeks to protect your eyes.  Daddy boarded up all my bedroom windows.  It was there, I remember storybooks that were read to me.  The bathroom had a skeleton key lock too, and one window.  Somehow my mother had lost her little manicure kit.  Mama was raising a holler, she just knew we had it.  Daddy said," if I find that manicure kit in your apron pocket I'm going to give you a spanking".  I was seven, that was so funny to me, as I knew he was poken’ fun with momma.  So daddy chased her, and caught her though she ran.  Sure enough, there inside her apron pocket was that little red manicure kit.
I remember daddy holding mama as they both struggled to get her manicure kit out of that apron pocket.  They were laughing, he did say he was going to spank her.  They were rolling around and still laughing, all I remember, was my daddy ended up locked in the bathroom and mama had the only skeleton key to open the door.  In fun, daddy would say "Debbie, go get the key from  your mama".  She had  the key in her apron pocket.  I could not get it from her. But I watched, as the two of them played. In fun she went outside to get the garden hose then she put it through that rear bathroom window.She turned on the water hose flooding the bathroom with my father inside. He was soaked, everyone was laughing  Mom was much younger than, as she would never do that kind of thing today.  Daddy, was soaking wet, he was not laughing by now and was still trying to get me to get the key to let him out. Now mama was a little nervous about letting daddy out of the bathroom  and she patted that pocket like the evil stepmother in Cinderella, when Cinderella was locked up, To this day I am not sure how my father got out of that bathroom.  But he did, and all was well. I saw a lot of laughter, love, hugs and kisses from my parents.  They were normal, they had their arguments, but I never let them fight.  Mother always told me they don't fight, they were having a disagreement.  But they couldn't even have disagreements in front of me because I would get very upset. I didn't like it when they were mad at me either.  Daddy would say," I'm going to count to 3" I had better be  moving by the number 2 because 3 was too late.  And I got in trouble.  I was very testy.  My father was a very just disciplined man.  He demanded respect and I honored him for that. He passed away in 1994 at the age of 69.Way too young and I miss him so much. The night my father died I was holding his hand. The doctors said, we had about a year left with him,but he had been sick for awhile no one knew. In the chapel of that hosp. I fell to my knees and asked God to take him now, don't let him die a slow painful death. One year was not enough time. I found myself making a memory, remember the movie the parent trap? Were the twin girls changed places? In doing so, when she met her real grandfather for the 1st time she held him so tight. He asked her what she was doing and she said, Why, I am making a memory. I really understand that. I didn't have my father for a year, 4 hours after I got to his bedside and within minutes of that prayer, he closed his eye and never opened them again. The nurses came in and said we had to leave. My mother and sister did, I would not. I watched. I needed to see what they were going to do to him, I hard to know they were not wrong. All in all everyone came back into say their goodbyes and we walked away. I bought a box with a skeleton key, inside I placed his tee shirt, watch, keychain and other things he had with him and I locked them up for safe keeping. Over the next 14 years from time to time I would open that box. Picking up his shirt and raising it to my face and then I would breathe.........slow...and I could smell him. Each time one more tear was added to the box. Then one day, I opened the box to find I could not smell him anymore, the tears stopped and I locked the box. There is no bigger hole then the one that death leaves on your heart. But like a ring of gold, there is no beginning and there is no end. Daddy was there to hold me when I came into this world, and I was there to hold when he left this world. I love you Daddy

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