Writing Wings For You

Marie Lukasik Wallace ~ # I LIVE Poetry – I'm passionate about life and writing and all things creative and poetic!

It’s the Small Things


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When I wrote, “Where are you Daddy?”  I was really lost.  It seems like a rollercoaster of emotions this grieving thing.  I don’t like it much…but I understand the need for it.  I also know that there is beauty and glory in all of it.

It’s the little things that remind me of him…my daddy.  My sister and I balled when we went to his house and saw peppermints  on the counter.  He always had them with him in his pocket.  You see my dad quit smoking 30 years ago, and his peppermints replaced that habit…so you can imagine, he always had a pocketful.  Then, my sister taught him how he could let the grand kids sneak up on his lap and steal one out of his pocket.  We built those memories together.  At the same time, he also replaced beer with Sam’s cola.  So, if we were at the store, he would ask us to get him beer & cigarettes…cola and peppermints.  What fond memories.

I still hear him through music, even if it’s music we didn’t listen to together.  Sometimes it’s the emotion or feeling that will zip right to my heart and remind me of him.   Last summer on a road trip, and when he was in the nursing home, we listened to a lot of Carole King, Tapestry.  He sure loved that album…I listened to it over and over while he would sleep.  What a brilliant, soulful woman who gets to the heart of everything.   While I listened, I KNEW which songs would be at his funeral…funny thing is that others have used “Way Over Yonder” for funerals before…and I never knew it.  I just knew that at that at the time my daddy was in the most pain of his physical body, I prayed for his sweet release and told him he could visit “yonder” anytime he wanted…and that his mama and papa would greet him.  And I also knew that the song “I Feel the Earth Move Under my Feet” would be played at the end…because my daddy would want people dancing, not crying.  Even the last week of his time on earth, when he could barely move, he would rock in his chair or tap a finger to that song.  It will always be our song.

I believe with all my heart that he graces me with his loving presence every day.  I just get to be still and listen and look.  It will be in the little things, the song of a bird, a dog that looks like his, or maybe even a Sam’s Cola.


Author: writingwingsforyou

Words are powerful and hold the keys to bring healing, play and joy, making life extrordinary. Words can also shift the world into a better place. I am a writer; a storyteller and a relatioship coach; buidling better relationships from the inside out so we can have more joy, communication and love in our lives. Let's explore! Let's create! . ~ Love, Marie Lukasik Wallace

7 thoughts on “It’s the Small Things

  1. Reblogged this on WitingInBlackandWhite.


  2. Thanks for sharing this moving post, Marie.


  3. Sending a hug. I understand. ♥

    Liked by 1 person

  4. I just want to send you a hug and hope for you to find your way past the grieving process. I wrote a post about my losing my grandfather, while crying I heard a cardinal singing. When I looked up from my dampened pillow it was right outside my window. When I wrote to Guideposts to ask if they had ever had an essay about this, they said ‘spirits’ or ‘angels’ of comfort can come in many ways. Every home I have moved to, on the first morning or moving in, I would hear a song of a cardinal, since 1980. Then, my 1993 move, I did not hear the song. While unpacking my dishes, my sister in law and I were talking about this, the blackened night had set in. She said to give it another day, tomorrow you will hear your grandfather’s blessing upon this house you built with Mike. As I took a cup and saucer out, a red, soft fluffy feather floated out. I held it up and she was my ‘proof’ that this was not a ‘fake’ feather you find in packages to create Indian headdresses, this was the ‘real thing.’ I know this may not be how you would expect me to reach out to you, but this helped me through many hard times, even now, when I wake up in my little one bedroom apartment, there is the song of a cardinal often singing his or her song. I was close to my Dad, I look to the stars for his messages. (He worked for NASA.) Take care and hope this helps a bit.


    • This was the most amazing way to comfort me, as only someone who knows the loss I have felt could feel. There is so much warmth in your words. I felt every word of love and compassion in your writing and feel the spirit in which you gave it. I have never before seen a cardinal except in the bushes as we put my dad in the rehabilitation place. He scooted over next to it to tweet out to it…He couldn’t make words, but he could make sounds. Every time I visited my dad, I heard their song. I tried to get close enough to take a picture, but I didn’t have the right kind of lens. It is now “our” bird. I found them on tablecloths and on a birdhouse I got and a quote I saw at the craft store…so I KNOW what you mean when you say you see signs. I can imagine how your heart must have LEAPT when you saw the feather. You are a kindred spirit…I thank you so very much for your kind words on this day. Sometimes my emotions feel so raw…but I know my daddy is happy and can be closer now than before…I just miss him. take care my friend.


  5. April 19 marked six long years without my mom. I remember her whenever I smell bread baking or chicken stewing. She loved gardening and I remember her hugs when warm soil filters through my fingers around the solid roots of the plants in my garden. Your daddy will always be with you … always … because he’s right there in your sweet heart of hearts. Hold on to the small things – they are our big things. HUGS!!!!


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