Holding Back the Tears.

Last week I cleaned out my mom’s kitchen cabinets. This week, I took on the challenge of cleaning out the bathroom closet and medicine cabinet. Not much of a challenge, really, considering I had to toss most of the four shelves full of medicinal items with past expiration dates.

The real challenge was to hold back the tears. Mom hadn’t cleaned out the closet or medicine cabinet since my dad passed away more than seven years ago. That’s why this was a challenge. Every morning, when I’d pick up my toothbrush and toothpaste to brush my teeth, my dad’s razor and combs stared back at me from the front corner of the second shelf. Each time I opened that damn closet, his aftershave bottles reminded me of his fresh clean-shaven scent of “Old Spice”. As a little girl, I used to stand and watch Dad shave and comb his hair. He’d twist and turn and push and pull his face in different directions and I’d giggle the entire time until he was finished and wait for him to say, “Okay, Peanut, it’s time for you to step out.”

It took only an hour to clean out the closet. Took a little longer for a few other things though.

My dad is with me every day, in my heart and in my mind, but certain things just set me off, and I knew I didn’t need a constant tug at my heart every morning. What took the most time was gathering my wits and wiping the tears after sitting on the bathroom floor for nearly an hour sorting through Dad’s precious items and stacking them neatly toward the back of the shelf behind the towels.

When I came across the unopened box of aftershave I’d bought for him the Christmas before he died, I lost it. Yes, I miss Dad. And yes, I cried, but they weren’t tears of sadness, they were tears of joy for all the wonderful memories he left for me to smile about.

Watching you shave was just a little thing we shared, Dad. And you always told me, “It’s the little things that matter.”

Thank you, Dad for reminding me this morning that you’re always with me.