...random thoughts, opinions and secrets on children... aging... cooking... crafts... nature...divorce...second chances...
and whatever else I deem curious...
~Copyright 2017. Hootie~

Friday, February 22, 2008


As I walked into my in-laws house for the first time I distinctly recall that familiar smell of a pipe having been smoked.
Deep, rich, smooth...the potpourri of tobacco residue; soaked into the cloth of the chairs, the fibers of the carpet and the slivers of wood in the panelling.
Upon occasion my own father would smoke a pipe. I recall it being on special occasions - but I don't remember what would qualify as special. Maybe the cost of pipe tobacco made it a luxury. When we cleaned out my mom's house I found my dad's old pipe stand and Humidor. On last Father's Day I bought some tobacco and my husband and his dad shared the moment above. My FIL hasn't smoked in 22 years. He says if he found out he had a terminal disease he take up the habit again.
Dads are so important. My dad was my first love. He died when I was 21. I think every young girl can recall her first love and mine being my dad was not unusual. My dad was my hero. He could do anything at anytime. He was a jack of all trades: the handyman, chef, gardener (mowing staff until my brother took over), the money source, bill payer, driver (not chauffeur though - mom mostly did that), emotional supporter, funny man, cheer leader, proud parent, dream encourager, etc.
My life came to a halt when he died. I felt like I lost so much in one fell swoop. I am a lucky person though. My dad could never be replaced, but a substitute was able to fill his shoes. For the past 23 years I have been able to still have that "dad relationship." My FIL and my dad never met. Had they, surely they would have been good buddies. Similar souls...on earth to be there for me. Even better for me was that my MIL is awesome too! Again, my mom could never be replaced, nor would I have ever wanted that, but my MIL was an additional bonus. How many others get to have two sets of parents to count on? Too few in my opinion.

1 comment:

sweetcakes said...

My grandfather used to smoke a pipe too. He died when I was six but oddly that's one of the few childhood memories I have of him. That, and sitting at the kitchen table watching him roll his own cigarettes. Unfortunately he died of lung cancer.