Many of us have fathers who are no longer with us. This can present an unexpected surprise. His memory ends up best being captured in something he gave us or that we took from his house, in many cases, without realizing that the item in question would become so important in our memory of this important man.
I always expected the main remembrance would be evoked by photographs or old letters, maybe some of his books or even an old hat. I was quite surprised to find that he comes alive for me in a blue ceramic statue of a hippo that he had bought at an art museum. It is bolted to a black block of wood and measures maybe eight inches long and four inches high. It’s not high art; you wouldn’t notice it right away. But that dang hippo reminds me so much of my father. It’s beat up, cute, chunky, irreverent, and solid.
What do you have of your father’s where you find his spirit still residing?