Tonight as I stood washing a cup at the sink I could smell the fresh bunch of freesia in the vase on the window sill.
They were given to me by my husband last week. As he bought them he explained to my youngest the connection between my Dad and I through freesia. He told her, how on occasions when I was growing up, I would come home, and there in my room would be a small bunch of freesia. When he became ill and unable to walk with Motor Neurone Disease, my mom continued to buy them for me on his behalf.
Standing at the sink their familiar fragrance seemed to fill my every pore. It was late, everyone was gone to bed, so for just a moment I indulged myself.
I closed my eyes and took a long deep breath.
I immediately was transported back over 25 years. I was a child by the side of my young father, as he busied himself sawing and chiseling wood. I had a small saw too and lots of projects in my imagination to complete. I remembered him in his sleeveless vest and farmers tan with a big smile. Loving working outside in the back garden, his favorite place in all the world.
The moment passed and I opened my eyes. I saw the freesia sitting on the window sill, not in my old bedroom at home, but in my house of now. A cold chill went through my body as I remembered my Dad was gone. I no longer saw the young smiling man, but the man confined to bed paralyzed by Motor Neurone Disease, unable to speak. I stood in the kitchen alone once more.
But just as I felt those tears of loss begin to burn, I closed my eyes once more, took a long deep breath, and there in my kitchen I held my Dads hand one more time.