Dreams and Wishes From The Past

I had my 2nd reiki treatment last night.
The session was interesting & I can't wait to share it.

But first I had to get a few other thoughts out.
The first thing is that I wanted to share that I wrote a little card to *E's* mom.
And it was well received.
I'll leave it at that for now.

Last night before and after my treatment I met up with my stepmom for some girly talk.
And after we were finished - quite honestly we probably could have chatted all night long - I stopped in to see my dad and brothers. It wasn't a long visit. But it was enough. In a good way.

I was sharing with my dad the details of my reiki treatment and something came to him and he walked away.
He came back with a box.
And inside the box was a violin.
An old violin.
In pieces.

He began telling me how this violin was my grandfather's (his father). And he loved this violin. He thought it was "something".
My dad took it to a musician in a local city to find out about it and to inquire about getting it put back together.
Sadly (or not so sadly), the violin is "nothing" in terms of monetary value and it would cost more to put it back to rights than to buy a nice, quality new one.

As my dad was telling me about it, I began salivating.
And felt bad despite myself.
I felt like a wolf, hungry for the kill.
I felt horrible for being so overtaken with thoughts like Give it to me!! Drop it, sucker. Hand me the box and no one gets hurt!!!
I somehow managed to get ahold of myself.

See, for as long as I remember I've wanted to learn how to play the Violin. And to see this in front me of me was almost too much to handle....the thought of playing Violin - his violin - clouded any ounce of good judgement I had.
I never have understand why I wanted to play. Because my passion has always been the Saxophone (and percussion, although I've never played percussion instruments).
Something has always drawn me to the Violin.

I had no idea until last night that my grandfather used to play.

My dad finished his story about the poor, dime-store violin.
And then he said
I'm going to have a little ceremony and I'm going to burn it.

I gasped.
My eyes in wide horror.

He said I'm going to burn it and take it down to Dad. Maybe if we all get together on the weekend of Thanksgiving we'll burn it then since we all will be together.

My grandfather apparently had much love for this 1920s Montgomery Ward Violin - that he bought 2nd hand and thought was "something".
And my dad is doing the right thing by his Dad.
It should be with him where he rests.

I left their house a little less selfish.
Happy that it will be returned to its rightful owner
and that since I've never met my grandfather and always longed for some physical connection, content in the fact that maybe I got this desire to play from him.

10 ripples in the pond:

jen said...

what a beautiful, poignant post. Three Dog Night dad always manages to move me.

Karen Forest said...

Cool. Isn't it amazing what we inherit from people we don't even know.

liv said...

interesting. just yesterday i found myself fingering the notes of the brandenburg concerto on my wrist. remnants from my violin days.

Aliki2006 said...

So beautiful! And amazing, too, because I used to play the violin for a few years. I still get a pang to play again, especially when I see a violin. Maybe some day I'll take it up again.

phenom said...

No no no... tell him what you're telling us. Tell him you want to try to learn. Tell him you'll burn it with him if it's too much. You gotta get your hands on it.

Needless to say, I have unnatural man-love for the violin.

alejna said...

How beautiful and moving. I can understand the urge to repair the violin, with all of its history. But a ceremonial ending seems more fitting.

I love the violin, too. Stringed instruments in general, but the violin in particular. I think part of the reason is that the sound is so much like a human voice.

flutter said...

Oh, Tabba. YOu are such a blessing

Joker The Lurcher said...

wow! could you not persuade him to postpone the burning for a while...

my great grandfather was a boot polisher in a public school (for which read private if you are the other side of the pond). i have a copy of the article from when he died saying that he died 'in harness' no doubt while polishing boots. the funny thing is that i love polishing shoes and i never knew he did this until recently.

and we nearly called my son llewellyn but decided not not because it was so hard to spell. i found out when he was about 10 that it was my granddad's name.

Denguy said...

Wonderful. Absolutely wonderful. Tabba, I too want the old stuff from the family and, in this case, your Dad is doing something great. It made me well-up with tears--happy ones. Give him a giant hug at the ceremony.

Wayfarer Scientista said...

Beautifully written. Wow, what an amazing thing to discover. I hope you'll take lessons? In memory of your link to your grandfather?