Broken Bicycle
With the fourth anniversary of my Dad’s passing, I’ve been missing him even more than normal. Recently, I was thinking of some of the stories he told over the years. One memory in particular, I’d like to share which happens to be one of my favorite stories from his childhood. I also believe it had a huge impact on his life. He never said those words out loud but by the way he told the story, I could feel it through his heart.
My Dad grew up without a lot of material possessions which lent itself to his humble yet very generous spirit. One year, his Dad had either purchased or had been given a broken bicycle he planned on rebuilding for Howard (my Dad’s younger brother). He had proposed that he and my Dad would work together rebuilding the bicycle for Howard for Christmas. My Dad knew how much his brother would love to receive the gift.
The two of them worked together restoring the bike. Replacing the broken parts and reusing and refurbishing what they couldn’t replace. They worked in secret any spare chance they had, all while keeping the project hidden from Howard. They worked over every inch of the bicycle and at one point my Dad’s father asked him what color he’d thought they should paint it. My Dad decided blue. Blue would be the color of the handsome bike they were restoring.
Once they were finished my Dad was excited for his brother to receive the gift on Christmas morning. But what my Dad hadn’t realized, he and his father had been restoring the bicycle for him. All along, his father had planned to give it to my Dad. I can’t imagine the wonder and delight he must have felt in that moment; the true meaning of Christmas.
What I loved about this story, told me so much about my grandfather. He was thoughtful and wanted to share an experience of working hard together building something to be proud of. It also told me his father taught him humility and doing something kind for someone else. His father knew how excited my Dad would be to receive the gift, and was able to keep the secret, secret while creating one-on-one time together. And I believe the most important thing, it showed my Dad that he mattered.
Celebrate this holiday with those you adore. I’ll take solace in knowing my Dad is together celebrating with his father in this season of love. I’d like to think they were tinkering together again too. I would guess that the broken bicycle was one of the greatest gifts my Dad ever received. I wish I would have known my grandfather. That’s the kind of impact I’d like to make on my children. May this season bring you the wonder and magic of the holidays.
xoxox…..Sheryl
PS …. As a side note, my Dad’s father passed away when he was in his later teens. Being the oldest son/child he had to become the man of the house at an early age. In order to help support his family, he moved to a neighboring town to work and live as a farm-hand while attending high-school. This journey is what started his life-long love of farming and the land.