Unless you have lost a loved one, it's hard to put into words the feelings you go through. It's a roller coaster of emotions. Even when I knew my dad was going to die from cancer, hearing the words from the doctors mouth saying, " six to eight months," even then nothing could prepare me for how I felt when I heard him take his last breath in my arms.
It still haunts me.
Growing up, my dad never used the words, "I love you." He didn't need to tell me. He was a caring, affectionate, and loving person. The life of the party. Mr. Entertainment. He made everyone smile and laugh. Everywhere we went, he was well known in town. Everyone loved him. You couldn't help it, his personality was infectious. When he came into the room it would literally light up. So there was no need for me to hear the words, "I love you." However, after I had my children, he would say it all the time to them and to me. Ironically, those were the last words he ever said to me. Well, there might have been an "unbelievable" or "ridiculous" thrown in there as well.
As I mentioned in my first post on this blog, my dad helped me get started on model railroads. He bought my first engine: a New Haven RS-3. I had no idea what I was doing at the time. Although I love the engine, it's not my mainline.
So after I got my layout set up, I emailed my dad countless pictures and videos. Every week I sent him updates. Even when I added a few trees to my mountain, I sent him pics. It was fun. He always loved getting the emails. Always asked me for more. And it always inspired me to do more, to try to make my layout the best it could be.
Unfortunately, after my dads passing, I neglected my trains for almost two years. Just lost interest, I guess you could say. My trains just sat and collected dust. Kind of like me. I was in the biggest funk ever.
What put me in the funk, other than the loss of my hero: Taking down my dad's train layout. It was a grueling process and I hated every minute of it. The worst part was painting over the wall mural. It had been there since 1996. It just felt like a sin to paint over it. But what else could I do. We sold his condo and the new owners wanted the basement clean and painted. Putting on the final coat of paint was like another nail in my dad's coffin. My hero was gone and so was his masterpiece. Life sucked.
It wasn't until I was moving into my new house when I got my mojo back. It took some time, but it came back. First thought was: maybe I should sell my layout. Yes: sell my layout and my trains. Except for the New Haven. Second thought was: I'll hold onto everything and store it in one of the sheds. Then, for no reason at all, when I got the layout to my new place, I moved it into a small room in which I call my office. Finally, the other night I decided to start this blog. I was bored. Or was I? Come to find out, I was jonesin' to get back to my hobby. I sat for hours looking at the current layout, looking for ways to improve and make additions.
Well, now I have a new goal. I'm going to make my own masterpiece, one that I will enjoy, one that I'm sure my dad would be proud of, and one that my kids will love as well.
The hobby was always there. I just needed to find it again.
I will always miss my hero (my dad). But model trains will always be part of my life. Memories of my father will be a constant reminder of the fun we shared together. There's no denying that.
So here's to my hero and model railroading!
Cheers,
Stephen
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