Did you know my dad was an artist? Actually he was many things...an organist, an inventor, a builder, a wood carver, an avid reader...wow...I could go on and on! I was fortunate and blessed for having such a special and unique dad. Why is it now that he's gone, my life makes so much more sense? His journey through life molded mine.
Last night I was emptying a closet that I had put a few last boxes in because I didn't know where to put them. As I was taking the items out I came upon a sign that I had made at a young age for my dad for his studio. Why "Klaas's carving studio"? His American name was Claude, and his Dutch name was Klaas.
I thought back then it would be cool if he called this place that he spent many hours his studio, but he never did. He called it his "shop". (And that really was ok with me.)
This sign is now bittersweet for me. I remember taking it off the wall for the last time as I walked away from his shop forever. I wanted that sign and my dad to remain there forever. Life doesn't happen that way...bummer. It's still hits me in the gut once in awhile.
What I do have is my many memories of and an even better understanding of why I am the way I am. Will I hang this in my studio? I'm undecided. It's really not mine to hang.
Enslaved by Possessions
1 year ago