Robert LOVED woodworking.
He learned from his grandfather and used to tell me how sad he was when
his grandfather died. One of his early
memories was putting a thing that he made into the coffin at his funeral and
then seeing the funeral director remove it and throw it away (he did go rescue
it from the trash at the tender age of 6).
Given his love—I had kept most of his woodworking tools—the power
newer ones and the hand tools (mostly his grandfather’s) that he used.
Munchkin is 8—and wanted to build his own
pinewood derby car. I decided that it
was the right time to pull out the tools.
I hauled the big bins out to the garage—and we looked at
what he had. Munchkin had drawn the
model for his car and then carefully marked the cuts. I only had one minor
issue that I needed to call my brother to figure out—but other than that
everything is still in working order!
Munchkin is big enough to reach the work bench. I used the scroll saw to make the big cuts and
Munchkin carefully and meticulously used the hand tools to shape and sand his
car. He has
earned his whittling chip in Scouts so he knows how to safely use tools and cut
away from himself. I was relegated to a
space outside of his safety circle.
I stood there and watched him. He was careful and smiley and did things the
way that he wanted to do them. He
carefully touched the wood to ensure that it was smooth enough and sanded away
any rough spots his little finger found.
As I watched, I realized that the
connection to Robert is starting to come full circle. That even though he wasn’t here to teach
Munchkin himself, by using his tools and answering his questions, that was
connection between them.
It is nearly eight years since the accident, and Munchkin
was a baby-so it sometimes hurts my heart on all that they missed together. Today—instead of hurt, I was able to see the
joy of a young boy using his father’s tools.
That joy—that joy makes my heart happy.
