Daddy’s Room…

     I can remember the books, dust and the empty Kleenex boxes that dotted the  room. Books everywhere, a TV table that doubled as a bedside book-stand for years after Mommy died. I never realized he was just too tired to hold those huge old volumes of “History of Civilization ” by Will and Ariel Durant in his hands. He like me, was just too tired to hold that weight in his hands anymore. This man that had held all our worlds together and always made everything alright.  That’s why the TV table pulled up to his side with the book propped up on it. Always with the pages held down by a magnetic bookmark that my thoughtful sister Maureen had sent him.  He would sit on the side of this bed for years, leaning forward and reading and when something caught onto his eye or soul…he would copy it…memorize it and tell it to the people he loved later. For years my Father wrote  quotes into a notebook or any handy scrap of paper. This was his way of  conversing with the most brilliant minds of every generation, all while collecting these literary jewels and then handing them out, the funny, the sad, and the hilarious. He would converse with these great writers in his room and then come downstairs and while whipping up his one millionth casserole share the wisdom of the centuries with us his lucky children.  He fed our hearts our minds and our souls., from the time we were little till we had our own little ones. My Dad, the best. Even now, when I hear something so perfect, so apt…I want to call him and tell him. Then I remember, I’ll have to wait, so I write it down so as not to forget. I hope when I get there I can still remember the really funny ones…they were his favorites.

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