I see his truck parked in the yard and see him getting out of it. I see him sitting is his chair next to me eating dinner and watching TV. I see him laying next to me at night. I see him in his shop working on a new guitar. I hear his music and see him walking around the 145 with his wireles mike. He is a part of me and everything in our house is a part of him.
I am trying to clean out 2 junks drawers in the kitchen. You know what I mean. Everyone has a junk drawer - it accumulates all sorts of crap. We have lived in our house for over 21 years - So you know what can accumulate. The drawers have been cleaned many times - but still the crap that I have found.
A lot of this crap is from the kids - probably from as long ago as from Scott was in Kindergarten (Scott is 26 years old). I kept it because "you never know when you might need a set of colored pencils and glue stick". Well the colored pencils are broken and the glue stick is all dried up. So much is going in the trash.
But I am finding so much of Steve's stuff. Bits and pieces left over from a repair project. I have found Screws, nails, nuts and bolts, and little connectors that I don't know what they connected. I have found little zip lock bags of parts - wishing I could ask Steve if these were important or did he mean to throw them away. I have found more batteries than I know what to do with - several are corroded with white battery acid leaking out. Little tools, screw drivers, allen wrenches, eye glass repair kits, electrical tape, bottles of super glue and enough shoe laces for all the shoes in the house.
I had to stop for a while and take a break. Crying over kitchen sink repair parts was just too much. Just made me think of all the things that Steve did around the house for us. It never failed, if something needed fixing - Steve would stop whatever he was doing and fix it. There might be some complaining, but he did so much automatically - it was just the person that he was.
I miss you so much.
Fran and Steve at our nephew, Jason's, wedding May 2008
|Corbin, Steve and Fran and our son, Chris', wedding.|