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Tower and Town, November 2013


It's The Little Things You Remember

It would have been my Dad's birthday today. He would have grumbled and reluctantly accepted birthday cards and homemade gifts. He would have complained he was getting old, joke that he was an elderly man and that next year he would receive his free bus pass. It didn't occur to us that this day would never come.

Our memories help make us who we are. Memories pop out of nowhere, sometimes making us smile, sometimes making us cry, and it is our senses that propel us into the past.

A smell can instantly bring to mind a person or a place. My Dad always wore the same aftershave, Eau Sauvage, and whenever I smell it I remember hugs, lots of hugs and feeling safe. The smell of chlorine reminds me of the many hours we spent in various swimming pools as he supported my swimming endeavours.

When I look along my book shelf and spot one of my favourite childhood books I can still hear his voice as he read me a bedtime story. Also the sound of his tone deaf singing, where we would all resort to covering our ears with pillows when he would unsuccessfully try to sing his rendition of various songs where he couldn't remember the words! And then of course there was the classic TDad dancing' which I'm sure everyone can relate to!

Whenever I taste Mum's fish pie I remember that it was his favourite.

Sometimes I look in the mirror and see one of his facial expressions looking back at me. Once I glanced at a reflection in a shop window and mistook myself for my dad (not sure if that's a good thing or a bad thing...)

Time changes how you look at memories. The things that used to drive me mad now make me smile. How he used to 'borrow' my books, sometimes before I'd even read them, and bend back the book and run his thumb down the inside of the pages, creasing the spine. When he used to insist on making broth on a Monday to finish the Sunday roast (which he would keep adding to and prolong the agony). The way he used to always call me Constance, not Connie, and drag us out on rainy Sundays on long walks that were 'good for us'.

Memories change the way you look at life. I no longer take the people I love for granted. I never leave on a bad word and always tell them how much I love them. The memories I have of my dad have made me a better person.

The memories I have of my dad have made me a better person.

The truth is that those we love are never truly gone. They live through us in memories.

Connie Wells

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