When I’m kept busy, the sound drowned it out but when it all settled, the silence was deafening. There it was again; quiet as my breath shortened when it hit me again. In stillness I was reminded his earthly presence is no longer. There are no more calls, texts, advice, talks, just what he left. I sank in the weight.
This idea used to stop me in my tracks and so quickly turned into physical pain - love with nowhere to go. I’d never felt my heart break like that before. I still miss him but over the months, I saw other ways to find my dad. It’s not always obvious but this is where his spirit shows up for me:
2 teaspoons of coffee, 4 teaspoons of creamer, 4 teaspoons of sugar. Mix it for ten seconds. That’s how he liked his morning coffee in the big Irish mug I bought him. Sometimes I make a cup using his ratio: 1,2,2. In that warm sugary sip, I find him.
Snot wontons. When I’d get sick, I’d keep a box of tissues bedside and blow my nose endlessly, building up a pile of what he’d call “wontons.” Red-nosed and congested, glazing up at my dad who thought it was funny. When I’m sick and making snot wontons, I find his laugh.
Red ruby. If the pimple on my face was deemed big enough by Dad, he’d call me rich, to which I’d usually roll my eyes. “Look at the red diamond you got on your forehead.” Annoyingly but gratefully, there’s a bright side to my blemish.
These seem silly and mundane but on quiet days, I’m reminded he’s not gone in something as simple as a cup of coffee. Whether they’re here with us or not, we carry our loved ones in ways inconspicuous. Pay attention. We’re made up of parts of people we love and pass by. I apply moisturizer every day the way my mom does, sugar cookies make me think of my childhood best friend, I always hear my sister in my laugh, my Winnie Pooh pillow hand-embroidered by my grandma is like still holding her hand, a boy I dated made me a playlist I still listen to, I cook my chicken the way my university roommate did. This little life is ours and every tiny universe that touches us along the way leaves its mark. I hope I’m in the mundane of the people I’ve come by as well, what a beautiful thing.