Sounds of memories. Has that ever happened to you. It was an experience that happened to me today. I had gathered some change and headed over to a store a few blocks from work. I was looking to see if there was anything that might make our camping trip this weekend be a little easier. As I was walking over there the change jingled in my pocket.

Itbrandon, fami;y, 2008, 2009 098 was a sound that took me back on time maybe 50 years ago… I could actually feel the presence of my dad. He would have change in his trouser pockets and when he came in from a traveling salesman venture- his change in his pocket would jingle. I would hug his leg as he tried to come into the house, and the change- it jingled in my ear… it jingled as he walked.

I had a quick reminder in my mind of the smell of “Old Spice” – he wore that after shave . And as I felt the comfort of his presence, it came to me , that his birthday was in June. I think it was towards the end of June, but I have nothing to give me the exact date. I do not know if it is on his headstone… my gosh I wish I knew if it was this week.

A dad… what is a dad to me? He was someone I was crazy about. I hated each time he left and watched for him when he came home. He was the more disciplinarian of the marriage- so he was the person we slammed with all the wrong doings our siblings did, as he tried to settle in after days away.

He was the person who was stern, yet strong.. .. yet not afraid to hug me and my siblings.

He ALWAYS greeted my mom with a hug and kiss when he came in the door… and gave her a hug and kiss before he left.

He smoked pipes- I remember the smells of the sweetened tobacco, and I can visualize his pipe tree. He would go for walks with us, and amused us by his tolerance of our sometimes not so great ideas.

I do not ever remember him making me feel worthless, I felt he loved me. With so many brothers and sisters, one on one time with him was priceless. Not one day in my life do I ever recall my mom or dad fighting , not even raising a voice at one another.

He died at the age of 57. That was 47 years ago. And his jingling change, the comfort of his arms, the scent of his aftershave, the sounds of the gravel crunching under his oxford shoes, his cough from smoking too much, his being- well it is close to me tonight- today… he is here…it is strange in a comforting way. Happy Birthday Dad, I feel you surrounding my being today.. and I love you.. and I really miss you. I wish you could have been there – met my son ( he would make you so proud) —met my husband ( he is a good man)- and shared all the people in our lives. You would have loved them all… Love always, Mrs Justa.. alias your” princess” alias Cindy

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