Squeeze the Toothpaste from the Bottom

After my father’s funeral I spoke to the family and friends who had gathered to show their respect and support.

“If my father was here today” I began “he would say that people are dying who have never died before”. It felt fitting to start with one of the many Ralphisms that have organically entered my everyday speech. I continued to summarise my father’s life (as I imagine most eulogies do) dividing his 77 years into milestone moments and then moved on to common themes that seemed to stretch across all life stages. His stories, the names of the characters in the stories and many of his sayings, seemed to flow out of me and I shared them with my audience. I felt then, as I still do, incredibly grateful for how much of himself my father had shared with me.

Fast forward to a week short of six years later and I was in the bathroom rushing to get ready. As I impatiently wrestled with an almost empty toothpaste tube, the familiar “squeeze the toothpaste from the bottom” popped into my head. I had forgotten that one in my speech and in my thoughts since, but there it was, as if there he was.

And here I am, on the eve of my 55th birthday lighting a yazheit candle for my father 6 years on.  

I light a candle to remember the life he led and to celebrate the life I had with him and the life I have left to live.

In the week between the toothpaste and now, I have noticed cars driving past with his initials on the plates and the time, almost every time I look, displays some combination of his birthdate.

I reread the words I wrote when he died and noticed for the first time that my description of him could be describing me. Even the dog lover adjective which was not true of me when my father was alive, is now applicable. And even my dog knows that when he gets a treat, he always will “have two, for luck” as my father used to say.

What I know absolutely is that with time the memories provide some kind of comfort. My written messages of condolence to others now includes traditional wishes for a long life plus a wish for ‘good memories to sustain you as your loved one lives on through you and yours’. What I know too is that when you are lucky enough to carry someone in your heart, you see them in your actions and hear them in your words.

That is my message here, triggered by toothpaste.