Sunday, March 02, 2008

Corners

Dad sat at the computer last night, tense and pensive. I could tell by the grimace of his profile that he was thinking - weighing the events of the past two weeks, digesting them, working out how to get beyond all this.

"I know this sounds silly," he said. "But I can't stop thinking about it - and it's such a little thing."

"What's that?" I asked.

"Corners," he said. "Ronnie, when he was refinishing the basement - he didn't understand how to make his corner. He never could make the measurements work out because he didn't know how to make a corner." He stops and thinks, takes his glasses off and wipes a strong hand over his face.

"I was going to do that some time. I was going to go up there when I had the time, and I was going to teach him how to make a corner. I was going to show him how to do it right." He pauses, stares at the wall. "And I -" his voice breaks, he clears his throat, spreads his hands in a helpless gesture. "And I never made it."

3 cat calls:

jenn said...

It's amazing how much the little things matter. . . during times of happiness, we often realize they are the things that bring us the most joy; during times of grief, they can unexpectedly trigger a flood of emotions. I'll continue to think of you all as you remember the little things--those things that comfort you as well as those that remind you of what you have lost.

Ruby said...

The 'I was going to' and 'I meant to' are so painful at a time like this.

Your writing conveys the emotion so well that I need a tissue.

Cue said...

This is really beautiful, in a completely human ohmygodiknowjustwhatyoumean kind of way. I feel for all of you...