Devoid of purpose, I wandered.
Making my way down the worn path to that old familiar place of fire and metal.
The overgrown jungle of iron and found “treasures” from years of my dad’s ramblings.
It was as he left it- when he left us.
The spiders now sewing everything in their place.
High on a shelf I saw a a little bird.
I knew it was his.
Another unfinished project to add to the list.
I couldn’t let it be.
Here finally was something I could fix, something I could make whole.
I thing I could give its proper home.
I set about turning everything on.
With every step, I heard his voice reciting the laws of each task.
The torch exploded into life and flame.
I got to work.
Using the materials he had so thoughtfully provided me to complete our project.
I gave the little love a new home
Born of fire and sparks, I laid metal to metal.
Slowly, a nest emerged.
A safe place to rest such an unexpected treasure.
The chance to put one thing right.
I left them unattached, one encircling the other.
Both of our efforts together yet apart.
Wanting her wedding to be nothing but happy.
I gave it to my sister the day before.
I knew my gift would bring sadness and tears to us both.
She was meant to have this gift from our father.
It would appear that I was meant to make sure that happened.
It was such a small thing with great significance.
(Much like my sister)
It is so often the sharp and painful parts of life that help us recognize the true glory of our greatest joys.
We all kept him close- each in our own way.
And none of us had to wonder if he was with us that day.