My Dad’s Old Ties

I am up early this morning. It is day 2 after the funeral. My brother flew out yesterday and left a nice row of ties on the washing machine. Perfectly sorted, lined up and secured in place with some black duct tape. Another use for duct tape. I set up my mom’s sewing machine and start to work on the ties. Eric wants me to sew them together to make a bag, no, a pillow. I am going to try keep them in the right order.

First the Dark blue one. I think every other one is a dark blue one with the little white spots. Like rain. Or tears. I sew it to the grey and brown striped tie. My dad’s old ties. What a great idea to sew them together like this. Eric is so clever. So artistic.

Next comes another dark blue tie. A christmas tie. Little green reindeer named in red. Vixen. Prancer. Donder. Blitzen. Donder? Is that really how it is spelled? Dang.

Next comes a brick red tie with geometric flowers. Very professional looking. Mom said yesterday that since he retired over 20 years ago he has only worn a tie once. He still has them.

A grey striped tie with flecks of blue. Why does my dad still have them?

Dark blue with white stripes.

Eric doesn’t wear ties. He is a creative, artistic guy at an ad company in NYC. Artistic ad guys in NYC don’t wear ties.

Grey stripes with blue white and red.

I remember buying my dad ties growing up. I wonder how many of these we bought for him over the years.

Blue and coral swirly things.

Dang what are those swirly things called.

Grey with red and white triangles.

I wonder why my dad kept them all these years. Is it because we bought them for him or because so much of his identity was with providing for his famlily.

Dark blue with small swirly things.

I still don’t know what they are called.

My mind is so numb these past few days.

Small grey checks with yellow and white uniform spots.

This one is balled up in the middle. I think it was his favourite.

I wonder why it was his favourite.

Dark brown brick red and cream stripes.

I think I remember him wearing this one.

Simple Dark blue and small white stripes.

It helps to do something with your hands at times like these. Nothing too stressful. Nothing that needs alot of serious thought. Hands busy in order to give the mind to show random movies and think random thoughts without pressure to make sense of it all. I think this might be an american thing. Strong work ethic.

Burgundy with white spots.

I hope my brother likes this. I am glad we decided on a pillow. This is way too heavy for a bag. Talk about carrying around your family’s burdens. Dang.

Plain dark blue.

I am sad my dad is gone.

This one says “British Sport” on the tag.

It looks a bit British. Not usual for my dad. He likes brighter colours. He likes Hawaiian shirts.

Fading blue stripes.

Elvis liked Hawaiian shirts too.

One of the pictures I put up of my dad looked a bit like Elvis.

All done. No more ties.

My mom told me a story about my dad yesterday. He said he felt he had lived a full, rich life. He was happy.

He was ready to go.

Well, I didn’t sew them all together all that great. Kinda hard with them cut along the cross-section of fabric.

My dad wasn’t perfect either. None of us are, are we. Mostly good memories. Some bad.

A full, rich life.