Hot pink, fuzzy, mouse ears that we're way too small for my head. I was slightly embarrassed even carrying them with me to breakfast in the hotel where my choir was staying. However, I had decided that if I was going to Disneyland again I was going to wear the ears my dad had bought me for my eleventh birthday.
So in a mix of embarrassment and nostalgic joy I explained to people that I had gotten them when I was eleven, but left off the fact that it was a birthday gift from my late father (cause bringing that up leads to people feeling sorry for me and sometimes not knowing how to handle that and sometimes that's good but to be honest I didn't want to put in the energy). One response really got me though. "For an eleven year old, I think they're perfect." And then when I mentioned how the Disney princesses had fallen off, "maybe they were only meant to last for a couple of years."
Now remember I hadn't mentioned the Dad part so I think this was all said thinking only of the very old, very bright, hat that I had for some unknown reason decided to take to Disneyland with me as an adult. But it got me thinking more symbolically.
Maybe that hat (one of the last physical things I remember receiving from my dad) wasn't the only thing out of date and falling apart. What if my memories we're to?
Although I didn't have any newer Disneyland hats, I could have bought one. Yet, I can't get new or updated memories of my dad. I'm bound to keep forgetting and even what I remember is like a fuzzy pink Mickey hat, right? I can still use them to remember my dad, but my dad years ago when he was the dad of an eleven year old. I don't know what it's like to have a dad as an adult or even as a teenager.
But that doesn't mean that I've grown out of all my memories of my dad. In fact, there are some I haven't even grown into yet, like the Texas longhorns jacket he used to let me borrow. It's the one thing of my dad's that I really wanted to keep after he died. It's so big and comfy and I guess it reminds me of my dad's hugs and the way he always took care of me.
So in a mix of embarrassment and nostalgic joy I explained to people that I had gotten them when I was eleven, but left off the fact that it was a birthday gift from my late father (cause bringing that up leads to people feeling sorry for me and sometimes not knowing how to handle that and sometimes that's good but to be honest I didn't want to put in the energy). One response really got me though. "For an eleven year old, I think they're perfect." And then when I mentioned how the Disney princesses had fallen off, "maybe they were only meant to last for a couple of years."
Now remember I hadn't mentioned the Dad part so I think this was all said thinking only of the very old, very bright, hat that I had for some unknown reason decided to take to Disneyland with me as an adult. But it got me thinking more symbolically.
Maybe that hat (one of the last physical things I remember receiving from my dad) wasn't the only thing out of date and falling apart. What if my memories we're to?
Although I didn't have any newer Disneyland hats, I could have bought one. Yet, I can't get new or updated memories of my dad. I'm bound to keep forgetting and even what I remember is like a fuzzy pink Mickey hat, right? I can still use them to remember my dad, but my dad years ago when he was the dad of an eleven year old. I don't know what it's like to have a dad as an adult or even as a teenager.
But that doesn't mean that I've grown out of all my memories of my dad. In fact, there are some I haven't even grown into yet, like the Texas longhorns jacket he used to let me borrow. It's the one thing of my dad's that I really wanted to keep after he died. It's so big and comfy and I guess it reminds me of my dad's hugs and the way he always took care of me.
I made a list of some other memories of my dad that I hope to grow into:
His desire for me to study the Bible for myself (represented by the concordences and Bible dictionaries I inhereted and love.)
His familiarity with the Bible.
His humble apologies.
His honest prayers.
His respect and love for my mom.
His desire for me to study the Bible for myself (represented by the concordences and Bible dictionaries I inhereted and love.)
His familiarity with the Bible.
His humble apologies.
His honest prayers.
His respect and love for my mom.
These are just a few of the memories I want to hold onto and cherish. It's encouraging to think that I can let go of my childhood and still hold onto my dad.
And one day, when my mouse ears and my dad's Longhorns jacket have been left behind, I'll see my dad and my Heavenly Father and the three of us, we'll make memories that will last for eternity!
Happy May!
-L.
-L.
