I'm a Drip

Yesterday I decided to tackle a leaky faucet.  I have never in my life done anything with plumbing.  I have always had my dad to do things like that.  He loved being Mr. Fixit.  And let's be honest, I loved allowing him to be Mr. Fixit!

So, I followed directions for fixing it, went to the hardware store to get the new part that I needed, and I fixed it.  I was very proud of myself!  I know that my dad would have been very pleased.



I do have to wonder, though, when this grief crap will ever get over.  Going to the hardware store was hard for me.  My entire life, even as an infant, my father took me to the hardware store.  It was his favorite place!  He really believed that you should support the local Mom and Pop hardware stores.  I've spent unknown hours of my life looking at the weird odds and ends in those stores, waiting on my dad.  He'd stand there, staring at the item, thinking about it.  He was a slow thinker.  As I got older, I'd suggest something to him, or he'd ask my opinion about a purchase he was going to make for the house.  He'd stand there, hand on his hip or one finger over his lips, listen to what I'd say, stare at me intently while he visualized what I said, and then say "Yeah, you're right."

So going into the hardware store was difficult.  The smell hit me instantly.  That smell reminds me of my dad.  And his absence.  But, I know he'd be bursting with pride that I did it all by myself.

I wish very much that he was here, and that I could go to the hardware store with him.