1776-1976 U.S. "BiCentennial" Quarter

I've been finding a lot of 1976 bicentennial quarters lately. I hadn't seen one in years and now less than a year after my dad's death I've come across several of them. And each one holds a memory of my dad.

"Hold onto those. One day they'll be worth a lot of money," my dad would tell me when I was a kid. So I did. Every single one I came across I wouldn't spend it. I'd save it and put it with my collection.

(Coin collecting was a hobby we both enjoyed and would sit for hours with a magnifying glass sorting through coins together, filling up our blue books.)

So now as a 37 year old woman, my dad dead and buried, in less than a week I've come across 3 of these rare quarters that I hadn't seen in ages - and each time I thought of my dad and tears came to my eyes. I stored them away. Just like the memories of him that I keep close to my heart.

It's been 8 months since my dad died and I'm still heartbroken. I miss him. Little signs that trigger memories of him make me happy & hurt so bad. I still find myself with tears streaming down my face thinking about my dad.

I see this quarter. I smile. I think of my dad. I cry because I miss him. And I continue to cry because it's such a big loss. In more ways than I could ever imagine when he was living. And I cry even harder because I still love him very much as my life continues without him.

I love you dad. And those 1976 quarters will always remind me of you. Thank you for that memory.

An Emotional Day

It's been an emotional day. Lots of tears. Been thinking a lot of my dad.

When I got sick, a friend told me she was glad my body felt safe enough to get sick. Wise words from a Yogi (and friend who has been there for me since my dad's death). She's right; there was too much to do & no time to get sick. Everything is over now. It's just me and my thoughts.

I keep thinking of my dad's hands. He had these amazing hands. His large palms were thick & calloused from hard labor. I received lots of spankings from those hands. I watched those hands work with tools - a wrench, a screwdriver. I can see his hands being dirty after working on the car, or plumbing, or whatever it was he had just finished fixing. I can see him washing his hands in the sink afterward to get them clean again. I can see his hands typing with one finger. I held those hands so many times. As a kid they gave me great comfort. They made me feel safe. As an adult I held those hands to let my dad know everything would be okay, when there were no words to express the moment, to let him know I was there by his side & to express my love.

In a High School graduation photo, standing next to my dad I realized for the first time that our hands were similar in shape, mine being the female equivalent. My brother reminded me of this recently and it made me feel close to my dad.

Lots of thoughts of my dad. Like the "goulash" he would make, which has no resemblance to any goulash I've eaten in my life. It consisted of ground hamburger, a can of corn, and ketchup, all mixed in a frying pan. I could go for some of that goulash right about now. He also taught me how to make grilled cheese sandwiches. So many memories.

My dad's death has given me a good kick in the butt. I will be a better parent, wife, friend, human being as a result. I will not shy away from opportunities. I will tell my loved ones how much I love them everyday. Life is too short.