tears of things

“How’s your car running?,” my dad would ask us, which was his code phrase for saying, “I love you.

My dad would ask us, “how’s your car running?,” which was his code phrase for saying, “I love you.”

His birthday and Father’s Day occur the same week, and I finally (finally…) followed through with what God put on my heart: to prepare a book, or website, or project that pays tribute to those things in our lives—items that are connected to strong memories, to a person, place or time.



When I was getting ready to go to a new school for first grade, my dad gave me the scissors (above) as part of my trove of supplies. For a man who was not a “curly-cue” guy, he engraved my name with such embellishment, and I have no idea how long that must have taken him. These scissors were very different from the pairs of safety scissors others had. These were mine, it said it … right… there.

For the last 50+ years, it’s been important to me to know where these scissors are. Not at all times, well, maybe, yes, probably, at all times. Since my dad passed away last year, having those scissors on my desk or in my backpack, ready for action, comforts me.

I always recognized these scissors for more than scissors, I saw them as “love.”

Back at home recently, my mom and I picked up a late dinner. We cried because my dad wasn’t there with us to enjoy the boxed hotdogs, fries, and strawberry shake, his favorite.

Those are some of the memories we have, before, and now, and the "tears of things."