My Father's Hands LbNA #38592
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Add Location| Owner: | Hez, Grumpy and Mona  |
|---|---|
| Plant date: | Mar 29, 2008 |
| Location: | Main Street |
| City: | Middlefield |
| County: | Middlesex |
| State: | Connecticut |
| Boxes: | 1 |
| Found by: | My Hopeful Bunny |
|---|---|
| Last found: | Jun 1, 2023 |
| Status: | FFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFF |
| Last edited: | Apr 20, 2018 |
My Father's Hands
My dad passed away in 2004 and since then I have tried to find a way to honor his memory. He was a quiet, humble man who would have been mortified if anyone made a fuss over him, so I knew I wanted something low key and in keeping with who he was as a man. I didn’t want the essence of who he was to be lost forever. One day it struck me that the one thing I remember so well about my dad were his hands.
In keeping with that thought, this box is in memory of my dad who would spend hours in his garden bringing plants to life and his joy in sharing the bounty of that garden. It’s in memory of the loving and patient care he took when he was building or repairing something.
His firm handshake was his word to you that he meant what he told you and would follow through on whatever it was you were shaking on.
His hands were usually nicked and scraped and rough to the touch, but they were gentle when you needed a hand to hold.
As a child, a young adult and a grown woman, I would marvel at the strength and sureness of those hands and all that he created with them.
One of my fondest memories is working beside him in the garden one spring and watching him take a fist full of earth, warm from the sun, holding it in his hand and not saying anything, and I understood in that moment just how much he loved the earth and the pleasure he got from working with it.
His hands, like his life, were well used and though he didn’t say much, his hands spoke volumes.
So, for my dad Martin, I place this box near where he rests deep in the earth he loved so well.
Find your way to Middlefield Cemetery. Follow the main road toward the brown building. As you enter the turn around stop just as you enter it and look up on the hillside. You will see a brown headstone with the name Tuthill on it. Go to that stone which marks my dad’s final resting place and facing the stone, look left at ~140 degrees to the tree in the bushes. Look under the wood and rocks.
There is no ink in this box.
Please re hide this box well.
My dad passed away in 2004 and since then I have tried to find a way to honor his memory. He was a quiet, humble man who would have been mortified if anyone made a fuss over him, so I knew I wanted something low key and in keeping with who he was as a man. I didn’t want the essence of who he was to be lost forever. One day it struck me that the one thing I remember so well about my dad were his hands.
In keeping with that thought, this box is in memory of my dad who would spend hours in his garden bringing plants to life and his joy in sharing the bounty of that garden. It’s in memory of the loving and patient care he took when he was building or repairing something.
His firm handshake was his word to you that he meant what he told you and would follow through on whatever it was you were shaking on.
His hands were usually nicked and scraped and rough to the touch, but they were gentle when you needed a hand to hold.
As a child, a young adult and a grown woman, I would marvel at the strength and sureness of those hands and all that he created with them.
One of my fondest memories is working beside him in the garden one spring and watching him take a fist full of earth, warm from the sun, holding it in his hand and not saying anything, and I understood in that moment just how much he loved the earth and the pleasure he got from working with it.
His hands, like his life, were well used and though he didn’t say much, his hands spoke volumes.
So, for my dad Martin, I place this box near where he rests deep in the earth he loved so well.
Find your way to Middlefield Cemetery. Follow the main road toward the brown building. As you enter the turn around stop just as you enter it and look up on the hillside. You will see a brown headstone with the name Tuthill on it. Go to that stone which marks my dad’s final resting place and facing the stone, look left at ~140 degrees to the tree in the bushes. Look under the wood and rocks.
There is no ink in this box.
Please re hide this box well.