For my father
I am linking to this re-post of a re-post for a reason....
January 20th I struggled with the memories of my mom dying.
Similarly I struggle with the loss of my father.
Part of what happens is that as I reach certain milestones in my life the absence of my parents seems more poignant somehow.
Now, since he won't be walking me down the aisle as I get married in the Church of his faith - I will miss him that much more....
January 20th I struggled with the memories of my mom dying.
Similarly I struggle with the loss of my father.
Part of what happens is that as I reach certain milestones in my life the absence of my parents seems more poignant somehow.
Now, since he won't be walking me down the aisle as I get married in the Church of his faith - I will miss him that much more....
posted by Colette at 2:47 PM
2 Comments:
C.,
He was a fine man. I was fortunate to have known him and think of him often.
One of my fondest memories of him was when he introduced me to Crown Royal. He had received a bottle as a gift during the Christmas holidays and he asked me if I had ever tried it. When I answered that I had not, he said “Come with me.” and we left the festivities for the kitchen. Whiskey glasses were produced, the bottle opened and drinks poured; two fingers, neat. We clinked glasses, the Italian “100 years” toast was spoken; being Irish he was apparently fluent in all the languages of the world when it came to toasting.
He asked me how I liked my drink and I said it was, without a doubt, the smoothest whiskey I had ever tasted. I then added that I thought it was dangerous. And he exclaimed “Very Good! Now, tell me why.” With his encouragement, I reasoned that any whiskey that smooth could cause a “less experienced” imbiber to commit a grievous mistake which, in all likelihood, would cause him to end up face down on the floor.
This was the first of many lessons I received from him in “keeping a wet edge”.
My dearest Squire,
Thank you! Thank you so very much - you have no idea how much that memory you just shared means to me. It's like the 'little things' I found out about my mom from her siblings (namely her brothers) years after she was gone and I was already an adult - they are like presents/treasures to open and you my dear brother just gave me a treasure.
I have to laugh because not only did Dad know how to toast in other languages but I have a memory of him talking to one of my uncle's mothers (frail old Italian woman) - and he was actually speaking to her en ITALIANO - I have to admit I was amazed - he was indeed an amazing man.
<*HUGS*> now stop being such a brat and e-mail me your contact info pozhaluista - Spasibo
Post a Comment
<< Home