Last time I wrote about the summer and the memories it brought back about Dad and how nostalgic it can be. As much as I said I find the winter drags on, I do have some lovely memories of the winter too, and the other night I got a very strong flash of nostalgia concerning Dad and the winter, and it made me cry. I haven't cried about Dad for a while, so this took me by surprise and brought back a lot of pain.
Just before Dan and I were going to go to sleep we were reading from a Christian daily reading book that we do. I felt very tired, and was finding it hard to concentrate anyway, but then there was a reference to a pond covered in ice. In to my mind flashed pictures from my childhood and teenage years of our own little pond in the back garden and how after a very cold night, it would be covered in a huge sheet of ice. As kids, this was always so exciting, especially if it was around Christmas time. So then my mind moved on to Dad, because he always used to lift away the big pane of ice and lay it on the grass (something to do with the fish I think!). And so I began to have strong memories come back of Dad in winter, things that are so small, and happened as a matter of routine from as young as I can remember right up until his last winter. But as Dan was saying to me, it is those routine things which you don't think about because they are so, well...routine(!),...those things that become so precious when the person has gone because they are part of who the person was, and part of the image of them that is etched in your mind.
It's nothing much, just that on a cold, crisp, winter Saturday afternoon he would be out in the garden (as always) and when he came through the door through to the living room, a rush of cold air would come in, and Dad would almost smell cold, if that is possible. Then he would always stand by the fire to warm up, but he stood so close that the smell of cold turned to a smell of burning as his clothes began to get too hot. This is just what he did....always.....just routine, something common to him. But the other night, I could smell those smells and feel the rush of cold air as the door opened and sense the frustration I would often feel when he left the door open! I was experiencing nostalgia once again, and it hurt. Never again will that happen. I wanted to be back in my Mum and Dad's lounge on a winter afternoon, and for this 'normality' to happen once again. I don't know why - it was nothing special, nothing significant. I guess it's those sort of things that you want back when you miss someone so much.
Nostalgia is more than a memory I believe. Nostalgia is when you feel the memory with your senses, when you are completely taken back to a time, and sometimes only for a fleeting moment, you are back in that time, that place, with the smells and the atmosphere and the sounds and the feel of the air. Nostalgia is beautiful because it takes you back to precious moments. But nostalgia hurts, because you cannot hold on to what it brings back – those things are gone.
Just before Dan and I were going to go to sleep we were reading from a Christian daily reading book that we do. I felt very tired, and was finding it hard to concentrate anyway, but then there was a reference to a pond covered in ice. In to my mind flashed pictures from my childhood and teenage years of our own little pond in the back garden and how after a very cold night, it would be covered in a huge sheet of ice. As kids, this was always so exciting, especially if it was around Christmas time. So then my mind moved on to Dad, because he always used to lift away the big pane of ice and lay it on the grass (something to do with the fish I think!). And so I began to have strong memories come back of Dad in winter, things that are so small, and happened as a matter of routine from as young as I can remember right up until his last winter. But as Dan was saying to me, it is those routine things which you don't think about because they are so, well...routine(!),...those things that become so precious when the person has gone because they are part of who the person was, and part of the image of them that is etched in your mind.
It's nothing much, just that on a cold, crisp, winter Saturday afternoon he would be out in the garden (as always) and when he came through the door through to the living room, a rush of cold air would come in, and Dad would almost smell cold, if that is possible. Then he would always stand by the fire to warm up, but he stood so close that the smell of cold turned to a smell of burning as his clothes began to get too hot. This is just what he did....always.....just routine, something common to him. But the other night, I could smell those smells and feel the rush of cold air as the door opened and sense the frustration I would often feel when he left the door open! I was experiencing nostalgia once again, and it hurt. Never again will that happen. I wanted to be back in my Mum and Dad's lounge on a winter afternoon, and for this 'normality' to happen once again. I don't know why - it was nothing special, nothing significant. I guess it's those sort of things that you want back when you miss someone so much.
Nostalgia is more than a memory I believe. Nostalgia is when you feel the memory with your senses, when you are completely taken back to a time, and sometimes only for a fleeting moment, you are back in that time, that place, with the smells and the atmosphere and the sounds and the feel of the air. Nostalgia is beautiful because it takes you back to precious moments. But nostalgia hurts, because you cannot hold on to what it brings back – those things are gone.