People are still looking for my dad. After his chemo he always wore a little cap, sort of like a driving cap/golfer’s cap, here in Boston some folks call them scully caps. But he favored ones that were slim and often I would buy six of them in Filene’s Basement or Marshall’s then then he would only keep one, and I’d return the rest. Sometimes my mom would sew/taper them — more like the style of the caps certain veterans wear.
People knew him from his caps, from cleaning our beach next door, watering the flowers out front, and in the summers, sometimes on the weekend mornings he would set up a little yard sale at the end of driveway. Would talk to them as they walked by with their dogs, or just alone out for a stroll.
They see me especially, when I wear his old jackets and an old painters cap over my hair pinned up. These days I’m working on getting ready for when we are cleared to fix our seawall which collapsed in December 2016. Finally got engineers and we are applying for permits.
From context or perspective, I’m about the same height and from the distance, they see me out there, and on the beach cleaning, and walk over and they stop and ask who I am or ask did I buy the house?
Has been over two years since my dad passed away in November 2014 — still explaining the very short version how he became ill with a lung disease (a long term side effect of his chemo) — pointing out the bench we dedicated in his memory, so people can look at out the water.
People are sad to hear it and say nice polite things. They nod about the bench agreeing he would have liked that and noting that they will stop and sit there when they can.