
Dad, now that you are no longer with me, Father's day is just another day. There will be no card, gift, phone call or visit again this year; all that will be are memories. Since your passing, the years are flying by, speeding up and gathering momentum. You’ve been gone so long it pains me to think of the time we’ve not had together.
I miss you! I miss your quirks and that funny sound you always made with your mouth, as if pushing air up and out, from deep within your throat. It sounded like “quick, quick”, a unique noise; I’ve not heard it before or since.
I saved your answering machine message tape, perhaps I’ll dig it out and listen to your voice, “Hi this is Earle, I can’t come to the phone right......”. Such a standard reply, but your voice makes it so special; there is a musicality to it with an underlying rumble of laughter. I miss that.
I tried to keep a piece of you with me, something tangible that I could hold, so I saved one of your Old Spice, infused shirts. As kids we always gave you Old Spice for Christmas, that familiar red packaging that held soap-on-a-rope and a bottle of aftershave that would last the year. Although at times you switched it up and tried to be an Aqua Velva Man, Old Spice is the one that stuck. You wore it well, it was your signature and every time I catch a whiff, I’m transported to thoughts of you. I opened a bottle at the drugstore a while ago, to sniff and recapture the memory of you. It was sweet and sour, smiling while my eyes wet around the rims.
I stored your plaid shirt in a Ziploc bag to trap and hold the scent but opening it periodically allowed the perfume to escape. Now the material smells like old plastic with a faint undercurrent of cigarette smoke. Now even that is gone.....only memories remain and sadly, those too dull with time. Only in my dreams can I keep you alive, I awake torn between happy and sad; pure elation of seeing you again and renewed grief over your loss.
I would give anything to have you back for a day; take great delight to show you the things I’ve accomplished; I know you would be proud of me, to know that your ‘Chrissy’ is doing well.
Earle Leroy Veinotte
Remembered often and fondly