The crucifix pictured above is something I carry with me whenever I leave the house. Although I was raised Roman Catholic, I am not devoutly religious and don’t subscribe to any religion. I’m more spiritual, if anything. But the crucifix is something that connects me to my father who died seven years ago. He used to carry it around in his car. After he passed, I started toting it around with me. Everywhere! Whenever I leave the house – no matter where I go – it’s in my pocket.
Once, a couple of years ago, I had the sudden urge for a late-night cheeseburger, so I hopped into my truck and scampered to a nearby burger joint. (I normally don’t eat fast food, but this was a weak moment for me.) After I returned home, I began emptying my pockets – and was startled to realize I didn’t have the crucifix with me. I hurried back out to the truck and feverishly searched as much of it as I could; working up a minor sweat and panicking. I was genuinely upset and almost horrified. How could I lose something so important to me? And, more importantly, where could it be?
I rushed back into the house, breathing heavily and completely frantic. I didn’t know where to look next. But then I returned to my bedroom and pulled open the dresser drawer where I keep my keys and other such items – including the crucifix. And there it was – sitting quietly atop a handkerchief. I hadn’t taken it with me when I left to get the food. The sense of relief was immense – and almost laughable.
I got that upset over an old crucifix? Well…yes!
I don’t know where my father got it or when. I don’t even know at what point he placed it into the side panel of his 2002 Chevy Malibu. But it’s obviously old. My parents gathered a large collection of crucifixes over the years, which I still have.
As I declared, it’s simply something that connects me to my father. On this Father’s Day weekend, it’s even more important.
I’m curious to know if any of you have similar items; something that bears such personal significance to you – and only you – that it’s become an integral part of your life. Please share.
Chief Writing Wolf 
I liked reading this; you’ve talked quite often about how much your father meant to you. I wasn’t sure I had anything that significant to me, but then I remembered my granny’s scissors. My dad’s mom, who I now suspect was like me, had a pair of scissors in her sewing machine. I passed on the sewing machine to my brother before I severed ties with him, but I kept the scissors. I actually used them in the yard this morning while I deadheaded some flowers. It’s not what they were meant for, but I think she’d appreciate the fact that I use them still and that I think about her when I do.
Thanks, Jen. It’s amazing what significance or meaning we often attach to inanimate objects; items that – on their own – are trivial, yet mean something to us in a way that just can’t be described or even understood.
No, they can’t be. I think that’s part of what makes them special.