I visit my elderly mother on Wednesdays every week. I told her about the dilemma. She volunteered to take both of them off my hands. I took both of them to her yesterday.
We talked for a while and I learned from her that my father loved wind chimes. I didn't know this fact. It didn't surprise me because my dad was a nature guy and he considered wind chimes an extension of the outdoors.
Mom picked the one she liked and told me the other one my dad would like and I should take them to him. I thought this was an odd request because he had passed away in 1967. She told me there was a metal stand with a hook on the grave and the wind chimes would look and sound beautiful there.
Through the years I have visited his grave typically a couple days before Memorial Day. My dad has a purple lilac bush on his grave and it was in full bloom. It was his request to have such a bush on his grave.
My wife and I put the wind chime up last night. It began to sound immediately. There was no wind. It really freaked me out. Ever since I have been little it has freaked me out to visit my dad's grave. Something about seeing your own name on a grave stone has always bothered me. I am a junior.
We stood there and listened to the chimes toll and smelled the lilacs for quite a while. My mind was racing. I have never been comfortable being in the cemetery ever. The sound and smell made me linger there and think.
I dropped off my wife at her mother's and went to the dam in Gays Mills to fish. I stood there a while before I fished and pondered. Many a day in my youth I had sat on the banks of the Kickapoo River and fished with my father. I was the most happy as a kid when I was out in nature with my dad.
The cemetery was about two miles away but I swear I could hear those wind chimes singing. It finally came to me why I am so driven to fish. I wanted to be with my dad. He was taken from me when I was 10 years old.
Being on stream was like being with him. Every change of the wind was like he was speaking to me. I could see his smile as I landed a big trout or pike. He never really died. He is part of the outdoors.
This was the real reason I escaped in to the outdoors every chance I could throughout my life. His body was at the cemetery but his spirit was with me on stream and he had never left.