Sockets

 

It may look like just a bunch of old and worn out tools but they are part of who I am. Not the tools themselves but the memories they invoke. 

Because this set of sockets and socket wrench belonged to my grandpa Hubbard.

 They were his and they are one of the few things that are left of him that I kept and cherish when I need them. I know when I use these tools, that I jealousy took, that he would smile at how I have taken good care of them and still use them. 

So much of who I am came from him: my skill with building and fixing things, my problem solving and the engineer in me. That all came from my untrained desire and interests guided by his teaching me how to work with tools and think out a problem. 

There are times I get a memory that is so strong that I can actually hear his voice in my mind, and it seems so real that I actually turn my head to see if he is really there. But I know that he is not. It has been over 30 years since I have heard his voice. Since I have seen him. Since he has called me, "Knuckle Head". The memory, though, can be so intense.....

God, I miss him some days. And the pain of loss comes flooding in. 

Memories come and I start reliving a lot of time I had with him. I remember so many things and replay so many reels of memory videos to refill my reserve of making sure not to forget that man. The man who was such an integral part of who I am. I roll them through my head for a few minutes and enjoy the time I have with him again. . . .even though they are just memories. 

And then it is inevitable. I come to the part when I lost him. His cancer. His decline. 

And that is where I have images of him in his last day or two. Memories I have but don't want. I hate that those are the last things I remember of him. I hate that my feelings of sorrow and pain and loss have saved those memories with such clarity and realness. . . burned them permanently into my memory. 

I hate it. 

Maybe that is why I don't like funerals and walking up to caskets. I don't want that image of my loved one to be the last memory of them. Burned into my memory like I do with the last days with grandpa. I want to keep the memories of them when . . . . . 

Sigh. . . . . 

So, yeah. these are my grandpa's Craftsman socket set from Sears. And I was able to fix the dryer with them and the Spirit of Grandpa in me. Man, I miss him some days.