Timely Memories

My dad was a watchmaker and often fixed watches for the Sisters of Charity of Leavenworth. They sometimes told him to keep the watches of the sisters who had died, and he offered me one of these timepieces. I found myself wearing it the past two days, probably in anticipation of his death anniversary today.

Although he died 17 years ago, my dad’s spirit is still with me, especially when I need patience and perspective. His life still provides me counsel: Plant a garden every year. Be kind. Don’t neglect prayer. Respond to the needs of others.

I find the following reflection by Victoria Weinstein helpful when I’m missing those who have died:

There is no need to end our relationship with our dead, for they are still ours. Still ours to struggle with, to learn from, and to love. There is no timeline for grieving them and there is no finitude to loving them. Through time—as long a time as it takes—we take their dream and their desires and their issues and integrate them into our own. We make use of whatever hard-won wisdom they were lucky enough to gain while they lived. We continue to forgive them, if forgiveness is called for. We continue the work of their hands. (From Beyond Absence, collected by Edward Searl.)

Like the watch my dad gave me, I can wind up my memories, and they keep ticking to help me be present to the important things in life. February 7 will always be a bittersweet day for me, but ultimately it is a time of gratitude that my dad and I are still connected as we each follow paths of new life.