Blue Nettles

My Father's Desk

This morning, February 21, 2006, three days after his death, I sat at Dad's desk and
computer working on calls to family friends, typing parts of the memorial mass program,
and reading emails that are already coming in with condolences for the family.
I probably would have sat there indefinitely had Marisa not called to be picked up from
school- that was probably good.
I listened to the CD that the grandchildren put together for Poppa's Prayer Service. I was playing it over and over.
I found myself looking all around Dad's desk, in the drawers, at papers on his desk and
thinking about what I might find as his last notes, what he was working on, etc.
It occurred to me that I had sat at his desk before- in this house (on 10th East), at his desk
on 3rd Avenue and at his desk in Brigham City- in his little office that he had in the
basement at the end of the laundry room (Herb's Hole)- even sitting at the library table at Grandma Blue's house in Illinois before the furniture was moved to Utah. I don't know
why but I have always been drawn to Dad's desks. From the library table in Illinois to his
desk now, I have sat in his chair and thought about him. There were always interesting
things to look at- in his drawers- little UTEP eraser, pins, magnifying glass, cards,
glasses. Dad was always working on something at his desk and we all know how much
time he spent there in his last years. It was a place of great productivity and creativity- it
was his place.
I was in awe of Dad when I was a child and I continue to be in awe of this man who
taught me so much. His calm and unconditional manner. His attentive listening. His
strength and perseverance to do things well. He was huge to me, I always wanted him to
be proud of me and to be reassured that I would always put forth my best effort
in everything that I did.
I will miss my Dad so much. I would have held on to him forever if I could have- to have
him close to me. But I realize that he was finished here, his body was done. He left
mostly completed projects at his desk, organized files and binders. He has given us so
many incredible gifts that have come from that space. The genealogy and history of our
families and his own stories from the many, many hours that he sat at his desk, working
so hard to make sure that we would be left with an understanding of our history and how
we are all connected.
I have this image of a little girl studying curiously all of the things at her father's desk- identifying with her father; thinking about him, adoring him- wanting to be just like him.