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.
As I kept my eyes closed and inhaled that smell once more, I could feel his arm around my shoulder. As real as if he were beside me. 
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.
photo credit: fauxpork via photopin cc
photo credit: Peter Werkman (www.peterwerkman.nl) via photopin cc
My thoughts on a page. 
The smell of newly planed wood does it for me Patricia and I still cant look at sawdust without tearing up.
Oh I am with you there. I rarely get to experience that smell, as I am not married to a DIYer, but when I do I am torn between lingering and remembering or running away. xxx
I can feel my grandmother’s hand in mine each Anzac Day service when I sing the hymn “Abide with Me”. I understand your post. 🙂
How lovely. It is bittersweet when we remember someone we have lost. Abide with me is the perfect song to remember someone by. I love how you feel your grandmothers presence.
That’s a bittersweet memory that I’m sure you treasure. Our olfactories have the power to transport us through time and space into our best – and worst – memories. My father died in 2009 and I gathered some of his jeans and shirts to sew into a quilt and I put the leftover material in a bag. I keep that bag closed up because my father’s smell is still there. Father’s Day will be coming up next month!
I would give anything to remember my dad’s smell. I remember after he died wearing his jumpers which were miles too big for me, but it was as if he was wrapping his arms around me.
What a beautiful gift those flowers give you. I can’t imagine what you went through watching your dad decline to that horrid disease. But to know he lives forever in your heart as that young and happy dad who gave you a scent just for the two of you…that is certainly a treasure.
Yes in my heart and in my children, he will live forever. Thanks Colleen. x
❤
I am so happy you can have those moments. Blessitude
Thank you. In a way it keeps our lost ones alive,
Yes…and they will always be alive in your heart and soul. I wish you wonderful peace. Lorrie
i am sorry for your loss tric, i know even after years, the missing continues. may those moments when you remember him be a sweet comfort and a gift to you. )
Yes they are. I suppose at times I wonder what might have been, but in these moments it’s nice to just share a moment, even imagined, with my Dad once more.
Truly beautiful, Tric.
Thank you. I appreciate that. It was a moment in time, and I raced to write it down afterwards.
It’s a beautiful, yet sad post. Take care, Tric 🙂
Thank you. Thats life I suppose. We all experience loss, and it is never easy. So glad I have these lovely flowers to remind me.
Oh Tric, this resonates so much. Our loved ones never, ever leave us as they have left so many memories and triggers to shared times.
Thank you. I remember you speaking of loss. Was it your mom? I am sure you too have many triggers.
You’re more than welcome, Tric. Yes, I’ve written quite a bit about losing both my parents who died within 16 months of each other. Lots of wonderful memories, thankfully.
What a beautiful memory, you have about your dad Tric 🙂
I do have memories with a flower about my dad too and other memories being tricked from my grandmother. Nice to have some good memories.
Yes it is good to have so many great memories of my Dad, just sad to have only memories and not the man himself.
You are right Tric.
Reblogged this on Fitness Mama and commented:
Beautiful
I am so sorry for your loss. Your words touch to the core, beyond beautiful and yet heart wrenching all at the same time.
Ironically, well maybe not so ironic, freesia were the flowers my Mum always bought for me. You know the saying about being aware of the little things in life, for some day they won’t be so little anymore? A small bunch of freesia may seem like one of the small pleasures in life, but now, with the loss of our beloved parents, it takes on a larger significance.