Have you ever realised the value of an inconsequential moment, long, long after it’s gone?
For me, this was poignant after my father passed away suddenly at age 54. I was living in London at the time, and thought my parents would be around for a long time yet. Not one part of me ever expected to receive a phone call on the way home from work like that… a phone call I’ll never forget.
What was strange, was that in the weeks, months and years since his passing, my most significant memories were not in the grand gestures, holidays, and those moments that felt big at the time.
Instead, the most significant memories were held in the moments that felt little, everyday-like, and ordinary.
One of my favourite of these kind of memories was in the milking shed. We grew up on a dairy farm, and so pitching in to help milk the cows was something that happened often. Dad used to like having the radio on full blast, and would regularly be found singing along to some beasty old tune. ‘Tip of My Tongue’ by Johnny Diesel, ‘Little Lies’ or ‘Don’t Stop’ by Fleetwood Mac would be sung to the best of his ability - and to the best of mine. If we didn’t know all the words, we would just make it up, or hum. My Dad loved music. He loved singing. And so did I.
There were snippets of time where we could both get a full shot of each other at opposite sides of the shed. I have a clear vision of what Dad looked like then; in blue overalls, apron, a cap, putting the cups on - with the biggest grin on his face, looking at me like he was the luckiest man in the world. It was a smile that said, ‘today’s a good day’, and ‘this is the good life.’ It was a smile that said, ‘I love you precious daughter.’
They were just glances, and just smiles, doing something mundane and ordinary.
But these are the kind of memories I cherish most.
🤍 🤍 🤍
𝗡𝗲𝘃𝗲𝗿 𝘂𝗻𝗱𝗲𝗿𝗲𝘀𝘁𝗶𝗺𝗮𝘁𝗲 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝘃𝗮𝗹𝘂𝗲 𝗼𝗳 𝘄𝗵𝗮𝘁 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗱𝗼 𝘄𝗶𝘁𝗵 𝘆𝗼𝘂𝗿 𝗰𝗵𝗶𝗹𝗱𝗿𝗲𝗻.
𝗡𝗼 𝗺𝗮𝘁𝘁𝗲𝗿 𝗵𝗼𝘄 𝘀𝗺𝗮𝗹𝗹, 𝗼𝗿 𝗶𝗻𝗰𝗼𝗻𝘀𝗲𝗾𝘂𝗲𝗻𝘁𝗶𝗮𝗹 𝗶𝘁 𝗺𝗮𝘆 𝗳𝗲𝗲𝗹 𝗮𝘁 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝘁𝗶𝗺𝗲.