Monday, July 1, 2013

Little tendrils

I cried at the Telstra shop today. Not because my phone is broken. Not because it has to be sent away so the little men can fix it. I cried that I would be losing all those old text messages from my Dad.

It really was kind of funny. There I was being all functional and grown up getting my phone ready to send off while the nice young boys were setting up my courtesy phone and then......while shutting down and logging off what seemed like a zillion services, networks and apps I casually asked if this process would mean that I would lose all my texts.

Well, that did it. 

I'm sorry I sobbed, tears streaming down my face, my father recently died and I just realized getting my phone fixed means I have to let go of his text messages. The nice young boys were a bit taken aback but also very kind. They even passed me a box of TISSUES bless their little GenY cotton socks.



It's the little things isn't it. I am trying to stay open and just let the million little tendrils of Dadness entwined in my life recede and drift away. But some things make me want to hang on with white knuckles.


Did I ever tell you how much I love you?
Three lines of so. 


6 comments:

molly said...

ugh, that must be terribly hard so early after your dads passing. You have so many memories and feelings to keep, hang on to those and he will never be gone like the messages.

Jeni at Northern Rivers Dreaming said...

We lived in Canberra nearly thirty years before moving to the Northern Rivers in 2008. My parents died in the early 1980s. I know a little of what you are feeling now, especially after losing your father's text messages. I had something similar happen, although back then it was answering machine messages. But that's not the reason I'm writing.

In April a friend reminded me we'd left a box at her place in Lyneham when we moved. I very nearly said, oh look just chuck it, it's just the very last few items from around our old house.

We returned to Canberra in late May. We picked up the box, planning to leave it at the self storage place we rent. When we opened it amongst other things I found my childhood stamp album. So here I am sitting in the car outside my friend's place flicking through it when suddenly an envelope fell out.

Inside was a handwritten letter my mother had sent to me at boarding school. I would have been about 10 years old. At the end of the letter she put aside practical things and wrote from her heart. Our house was very empty now I'd left, she wrote. She missed me oh so very much. Never forget how much I love you, she wrote.

Your father's text messages may be gone. But I'll bet you Duckie, there will come a day when you are not expecting it, when his words and his love will reach you again :)

The Duck Herder said...

Thanks Molly and Jeni. I really appreciate your comments. Its all true. Jeni - what a lovely gift.

big hugs to us and our dads!

Jacqui said...

ah Ducks :( I got choked up just reading this. Your lovely Dad holding you (I'm guessing) hardly believing his luck. What a beautiful photo. I dread the day I have to face this and can only imagine how hard that letting go is. I kept a voicemail message from my mum just so I can hear her voice and she's still here to talk to. Big hugs xx

Marla said...

Ducky,

I hate this. Every bit of it. Losing our dads is crap at best.

Right after my sister died, my phone died. I was sure AT&T could save it but alas, no go. When I stood at the counter hearing them tell me every text, every voicemail, every picture was gone, I burst into big, blubbering tears.

Then I went home and drank in bed.

I'm no help. Sorry.

Much love to you, anyway, my dear duck!

ams patil said...

Really awesome. But really true that must be terribly hard so early after your dads passing. I must thank for sharing this.
Kind regard
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