Butterflies and Eskimos

Do you recognize little bits of someone you’ve lost in yourself or in someone else? My two year old son, Jack, reminds me more of my father each day in funny little ways that always make me smile. Sure, he has my father’s hazel eyes, and the shape of his face is my Dad’s, but he did something this morning that warmed my heart and tickled my face.

My Dad was a big man, well over 6 feet tall with a booming voice and a commanding stride. He was, to me, a gentle, silly giant and a human jungle-gym. He would carry me on his shoulders, throw me several feet into the air, and let me “walk on the ceiling” by carrying me upside down by my ankles and holding my feet to the support beam in our dining room. His affection was larger than life, but nothing was better than when he would hold me cheek to cheek with him and tickle my eyes with his eyelashes. If I close my eyes right now I can still feel the scratch of his whiskers, the warmth of his skin and the flutter of his butterfly kisses. The nose-to-nose Eskimo kisses were nice too, but a distant second to the feeling of my father’s whole face.

This morning, without prompt, Jack crawled up into my lap with a sheepish little grin, took my face on either side with his tiny little hands, and tickled me with his eyelashes. I’d never shown him this.

Good morning, Daddy ❤

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3 thoughts on “Butterflies and Eskimos

  1. Grief is a strange creature, one day so overwhelming you can hardly breathe and the next a shadow hiding in the recess of your heart and mind. I would like to say Rob’s sister and I shared a close bond but the truth is we were often separated by time and circumstance always in two different phases of life, but I loved her nonetheless. I loved her for who she was to me. A friend, an ear when I needed one, always a smile and a hug. Never one to take things overly serious but always one to take you seriously. And I loved her for who she was to my husband Rob. His only sibling, a sister, a friend, a confidant. After she passed, I saw all the ways she touched our lives, most I had never noticed. But there was the pictures of her in the collage in the hallways. The handmade framed verse she read at our wedding given to us on our 1 year anniversary. The Dutch oven she bought in blue because Rob told her once I like everything blue. The way I missed picking up the phone to ask what to get my Mother-in-law for her birthday or to tell her her girls would have a little girl cousin to play with come the fall. How I miss her at every family gathering. And now we have two girls. Every once in awhile my oldest makes one of Alisa’s expressions and I remember she lives in us. I pick my baby girl up and tell her how much she looks like Daddy’s sister. When she asks who Aunt Alisa is I tell her she had to go to Heaven but now is our Angel watching over us. How much she would have loved my girls. The oldest shares her calm nature and passion for crafts. The little one she would have known was trouble and I think she would have loved watching the mischief unfold and probably at times would encourage it…..

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