Nearly 30 years ago, my wife and I purchased a grandfather clock. I remember that day so well. I’d recently changed jobs, involving a family move across half a continent. We’d purchased a new home. Money was really tight, so this was a major purchase for us. The boys were with us that day as well. It was a big adventure, a very special day.
Now, I have gotten into the habit of winding that clock at about 9:00 every Thursday morning. A small thing, but it is important to me that the clock be taken care of each and every Thursday. Seems a bit obsessive, doesn’t it. Maybe it is.
I remember my father, so many years ago, winding the starburst clock over the mantle every Sunday night. At about 7:00 he would get up from whatever he was doing (often it was a cribbage game with… .ME!) to wind that old, ugly clock. My dad has been gone now for over 44 years. I miss him. I talk to him nearly every day. My sons never got to know him. He was the only father my wife ever knew, and that only for a very short time. Yes, I miss him dearly.
Last week, when I went to wind the clock, it was at the half hour. The minute hand of the clock was covering the winding hole, so I put it off instead of just moving the hand to perform the task. Then something happened and I didn’t wind that old clock until the next day. In a way it bothered me. But also, as I did perform this little, private task, I was flooded by memories of my dad. We had done so many wonderful things together. He really was my BBF (best friend forever).
Today is Thursday. At 9:00 a.m. sharp, I wound the clock.
I miss him.
Alive in the Word