Close to my heart

I dug into my coat pocket this morning in the coffee shop hoping to find a few bucks.  Instead, I found this:

My father wrote this letter more than five years ago. He sent it along with a down green vest that he'd been wearing since the late 70s. It's a vest he wears in many of my memories. There he is cutting wood, hiking, working outside in the cold. 

A fiercely strong man of little words, my father is capable of breathtaking acts of poetry.

He sent me the vest after my third miscarriage. Or was it my second? I'm not certain. I do know I found it on the front door step, packed inside a box, delivered through the mail on a dark, dark day. All of those days of anguish and despair were dark. 

The dirty, worn vest... the words of comfort scrawled out on scrap paper... it remains the dearest gift I've ever received. 

I put on the vest that day and cried. I wore it for weeks and continue to get it out every year when the air turns crisp. Some days, like today, I stumble upon the note again - tucked inside a breast pocket - and feel my father's warmth. 

Comments

[Lea R]

it's like a hug. that is so very thoughtful.