I'm always a tad sentimental in November. November is the anniversary of my father's passing. On the 14th it will have been 15 years already. Fifteen years. A lifetime it seems without my dad around. This year also marked the 10th year without my mother. An orphan for a decade. It's an interesting way to look at it, as an adult orphan. There are certain recurring things that I do to feel close to them. I realized the pattern years ago. These actions bring me comfort and a smile to my face. They make me long a little for the people who bore me, raised me, did the best they could by me.
Home projects...that's my father. My dad was a blue collar guy. He was a painter by trade and an artist by passion. No room in our house was left untouched for any length of time. Generally one to two rooms were repainted, rearranged, redone top to bottom every single year. I think it's why I feel unrest in my homes. Why I'm always changing something. It makes me feel closer to him. It's putting into action the things he taught me when he was alive. My desire to take the kids to museums. That's from my dad also. He wasn't formally educated. Didn't make it out of the sixth grade, but he understood the world is a classroom, a free education if you apply yourself to what you are surrounded by. He always made sure we made it to the Chicago museums every year. It's part of why I think I love the bustly of downtowns so much. I was bred to feel so.
From my mom I got my love of setting a fancy table and entertaining. Traditions. My mom was big into traditions. Usually surrounding the holidays. Easter, Thanksgiving, Christmas Eve, Christmas. Big holidays. Big traditional meals and lots of people surrounding us. She invited everyone. People who were alone for holidays always had a place at our table. Even the one year, when she worked at Kamatsu (a Japanese company) she invited the nicest man, here in the states on a 3-year stint from Japan. While at dinner she asked him what he did in his country for Thanksgiving. My mom was entertaining like that. Smart as a whip, strong in her beliefs and opinions and a little ditzy here and there. Enough to make us all laugh, with her...because she knew how to laugh at herself. And so do I.
So, today, we are having the Missionaries over from church for dinner. We are having a roast with potatoes and carrots, homemade french bread, vegi's and pear sauce. A traditional Sunday dinner. Like Mom used to make. It's nice to have felt close to both of them a little this week. It doesn't quite fill the hole in my heart left by their early departures but it does help me feel a little bit more in the driver's seat about how I navigate around the hole.
