|At the peak|
The Finish Line
It was my last day in the house, and I was determined to finish the job that my sister and I had started two weeks ago.
I spent some time in the garage cleaning off shelves and organizing his tool bench. I owe it to my dad that I can tell the difference between a Phillips screwdriver and a flathead. Garage aficionados will appreciate the mini-fridge stocked full of pop and my dad's favorite brew. The garage was where I sought his approval. He taught us that girls can do anything that boys can do, including the proper use of tools and a willingness to get your hands dirty.
At the end of the day, I had a couple of visitors. Two of my dad's dirt bike buddies stopped by to discuss the motorcycles. One of them was a local legend on the dirt bike circuit and owned a shop in Vegas. Like all of my dad's other friends, he was a class act, and my dad would have wanted his bikes to go to him.
After he left, the next door neighbor stopped by to talk about the car. He had another neighbor with him who was interested in ramps and whatever was left in the workshop. I was running short on time and told them that we'd meet again when I was back in town after the holidays. My dad had good neighbors, as well as good friends.
I loaded the car and did a final check of each room. It seemed like it had been a year since I walked through the front door of this house with my sister for the first time. We had accomplished a lot in two weeks. We had reframed the past and redefined the bond we had as a family. We were the strong, smart and capable daughters he'd always thought we were.
And, we'll always have one special memory of the time when the three of us dissolved into side-splitting laughter over a perfect storm of good intentions and human blunder. That is the way that he would have wanted it to end with us.
No fuss, no muss. Only laughter and great memories.
Thanks for the happy ending, Dad.