Lost in time and space

I went to my parent's house last weekend, without Sam or the kids, for Grandpa Charlie's 90th birthday. At my request, Mom, Sarah and I began to organize, scan and label photographs and slides.  There are thousands.  Dad was (and is) a prolific photographer.  And as I sat there, surrounded by the past, my mind became unstuck in time.  My perspective was no longer linear.  It was like being in an airplane and seeing a whole city laid out below, rather than driving a car down one street.  I saw back for a hundred years, through photographs.  I mistook my sister Sarah, with baby Charlie, for Dorothea, all grown up, with a baby of her own.  It was strange and normal, all at once.  It was beautiful.

One of the most touching parts about being unstuck in time was that I had Dad back for a while.  He was there in the photographs, but also present with me.  During Sacrament meeting on Sunday I sat next to him and rested my head on his shoulder, as I did innumerable times as a girl and young woman.  The feeling of the material of his suit against my cheek, the slant and slightness of his shoulder, and even his laying his head briefly against the top of mine all transcended a particular moment and brought me into contact with him as he was, again.  Monday morning, a lady from SaraCare came to pick Dad up, and as they backed out of the driveway I followed, waving and blowing kisses until he was out of sight, just as I did every time he drove away from home in my childhood.  It was another moment of connection, of transcending time, of perceiving outside of time.

Now I miss him.  I'm not sure I did fully, before.   College, marriage, and moving out of state, had distanced me from him enough that by the time Alzheimers started affecting cognitive changes, his presence wasn't really a pattern in my brain, any more.  But this weekend, that changed.  He came back to me.  And now there is a dull ache in my heart and an emptiness.

Yesterday, Sam and the kids and I had dinner with some of Sam's colleagues.  The husband shared something with us that he had learned from his father--speed ball boxing--before his father died.  It was impressive and thrilling to watch, and I could see his love for his father as he did it. (Watch the last 15 seconds).  I had spoken with him about Dad a little, and when I commented how wonderful it was that he had something from his Dad, and I wish I did, he said pointed out that I, too, could "put beautiful things on a table," as I'd told him Dad had.  I will.

What I want to have of Dad's:
Gentleness
Genuine interest in and love for people
A positive attitude
Patience
Testimony
Good habits of journaling and scripture reading
Revelation
Purity of Spirit

And here are some of Dad's pictures: