austpicious said: I know how you feel. Just yesterday I saw a man whose shape and manner of walking reminded me so much of my dad that I had to pull the car to the side of the road because I couldn’t see for tears. Still hits me like that after 10 years :(
We all have them right? You know - those little shops on the corner of a street where you can get pretty much anything. Corner shop, corner store - here in la belle province they are known as a “dépanneur” or “dép” for short. At mine, I can get all the usual like milk, bread, newspaper, ciggies (if you are into fouling your lungs), beer, wine, all manner of groceries, and lots of other variouses and sundries - mine also happens to dispense tears. Yeah. No shit. It goes like this. I finish installing the jute runner for the outside staircase so that come winter (and winter is coming make no mistake), when they are slick with ice and snow, no one (including myself) does a four and a half gainer to land on their proverbial keister at the bottom of said staircase. Look at my watch and decide I better go get the weekend paper at the dép before he runs out and, of course, buy a ticket for the lotto (which I shall never win but you know, if you don’t have one, you don’t win as the saying goes sucker).
So there I am, standing at the counter, wearing my dad’s old jacket because it’s got one of those fuzzy linings and it’s loose enough so I can fit a warm sweatshirt under it (hey, it’s minus something outside okay - call me a weather pussy if you like) and it covers my bum (see the remark about minus something outside) and I was crawling underneath the steps to affix the runner so it wouldn’t be sticking its jute tongue out at my visitors all winter long. Dép guys looks at me and jokes as he always does that “you are like a dépanneur guy always running and always working” - did I mention I was kinda dirty from crawling about underneath the staircase? Well, I was. He looks at me and then asks “New coat? Looks a little big.” I replied, “no, not new, it was my dad’s jacket” and then I immediately burst into tears. I had no idea it was coming, but it always does - odd moments - standing in line at the bank once and seeing someone in front of me who reminded me so much of my dad that I had to walk out of there, sometimes when I pass through Gare Centrale and I remember how he used to take me down into the bowels of the station where the general public was never allowed and get real up close and personal with the trains and sometimes when I go grocery shopping and I recall how much he loved to go grocery shopping and how, when I would give him a list of my groceries, he would go to just about every store in a twenty mile radius (including multiple branches of the same store) to save me twenty cents on something and spend ten bucks of his gas doing it.
And sometimes, like today, it’s when I do a “dad thing” like putting a jute runner on the front staircase and sometimes the tears are just a tiny bit delayed until I get to the corner.