(applying primer to bed frame)
Nathan currently sleeps in a queen-size bed.
It's what we had on hand.
Unfortunately it takes up the majority of his room, leaving no space to play with his toys...which end up in the main living area of our house. It makes me crazy.
So I asked for a toy box for Christmas.
You think I'm kidding, don't you.
To compensate for this problem, not only is Eli getting a toy box for Christmas, but we are building Nathan a bunkbed (so when the time comes, we will already have a bed for Eli). We found plans online for ten bucks, and got so excited. Then as we went shopping for mattresses, the furniture guy sold us half a bunkbed (they had mistakingly sold half of one previously) for $25. We jumped on it, and have modeled the second portion of the bed after the first.
But because I've been sanding, painting and working on this project, it's got me thinking. I've had my birthfather on my mind for the past few weeks, even before we started this little project. It's like he's at the front of my brain just 'hanging out' there. For those of you that may not know, my birthfather Don, is dead. He died in his efforts to save the lives of others during the South Canyon Fire (Storm King Mtn.) in July 1994. I was only 15 then. (You can read more about him here or here.)
Don was very physically fit. He was active and athletic.
I am not.
I am clumsy and uncoordinated, and so terribly sad that I didn't get those genes from Don.
Don was talented in many areas, particularly that of carpentry. As I have been working on Nathan's bed, I find that I do my best thinking while I'm sanding. And, Don is still just 'there'. Is he really just hanging out with me, or am I just thinking about him for no reason? Am I thinking about him because I'm doing something he once did? I can't help but wonder, would he be proud of me if he could meet me today? Would he look at my uncoordinated, unconditioned sorry excuse of a bod, and think, 'Eww.'? Would he wonder what had gone wrong?
These are all just insecure thoughts I have had. I find it interesting and bothersome that although I have known from the very beginning of my reunion with Lori that Don was dead, I am only just now mourning him.
The day I met Lori and she told me about Don's death, I thought, 'Oh, that's too bad.'
That was it.
It sounds heartless and cruel, and I hate that I was so flippant about it, but at that particular time I had too much on my plate to really absorb the loss in and of itself.
And now suddenly, Don is in my every thought.
And some of those thoughts are my insecurities coming out.
I want him to be proud of me. I want him to love me for me. I want to thank him, from the bottom of my heart. Even if he may think I'm a lazy-good-for-nothing tub of goo.
It bothers me that I can't meet him. I have cried a lot of tears over this fact. I talk to everybody I can think of, to try and learn more about him and still I'm left...empty. The 'hole' isn't quite filled. Please don't get me wrong - my life was truly wonderful before I knew anything at all about Don, but I guess by learning more about my roots, I've come to learn more about the loss too.
But truly, if he was the person that everyboy says he is, I know in my heart that he would love me just as I am (but maybe he'd be willing to become my personal trainer!).
I realize now that it doesn't matter how many people I try to talk to in order to learn more about Don; that small 'void' cannot be filled.
At least not in this life.
There's an intimacy in simply meeting someone. You can discover so much from that small, simple meeting, and I've determined that this is the 'void' I have been so eagerly seeking.
And now this is gives me something to look forward to.
Someday, I will meet Don.
I will hug him, and quite possibly cry all over him, but I will ultimately be able to thank him.
I like to think Don is watching over me.
Maybe I think about him when he's near me.
Or maybe I just think about him.
Crazy ramblings, all beginning from a bunkbed.