Life is the most valuable thing in the foreseeable universe. It's so easy to get taken away by the things in life we all take for granted. It would be a simple thing to do, to waste our lives doing things within our comfort zone, yet it seeming a difficult task to take control of life and get the most out of it. And sometimes in life, we get far more than we bargain for.
After my dad died in a car accident last month, it was one of the worst things to ever happen to me. I'd often find myself sobbing behind closed doors at the fact that I'd never get to play ball with him or have a father figure in my life to teach me things. The one thing he left me was his favorite hat, a black fedora. It was made of somewhat cheap materials, but it smelled like him. It was the one thing he'd never leave the house without. I cherished it.
I cherished his hat so dearly that by the winter that followed, when it snowed heavy, my friends and I decided to build a snowman. It had a wide bottom, a smaller center, and an even smaller head. We used rocks to form a smile, eyes, and a nose. We needed something to complete it, so I grabbed my dad's hat and placed atop its head.
After I put the hat on its head, the wind began to swirl around us, carrying snowflakes in its wake. When the wind settled, the snowman began to blink and twitch. Had we actually brought the snowman to life. My friends and I gathered around as it leaned forward and started coughing. He leaned back up and looked around at us, blinking multiple times. He looked over at me, and in a familiar sounding voice, it said my name. I knew in an instant the voice belonged to my dad.
I went to hug his snowy body and he responded with a chuckle. He tried moving his stick arms to hug me but was unable to. I felt bad for him. He asked how he got there and we explained we had no idea. It happened after we put his old hat on his head.
We spent the next couple of hours spending as much time together as we could. He was able to build strength in his stick arms enough to participate in a snowball fight. But as the sun went down, my mother called me back inside. I'd tell her what we'd spent our time doing out there, but there's no way she'd believe me.
The next day I went outside to find that most of the snow had melted. And dad's hat sitting on the porch steps.
A full year went by when I looked out the window at the heavy snow that had fallen overnight, looked to my dad's hat, and was reminded about bringing my dad back to life. I grabbed his hat and gathered some friends to help me build another snowman.
Shortly after his construction, I placed the hat on top of his head, and felt the familiar wind swirl around us.
When the snowman awoke, he screamed for a few straight minutes. My friends and I had to cover our ears. After he calmed down, we asked him why he was screaming. He said he'd spent what felt like an eternity in hell. Constant heat surrounding him as he was forced to relive his death over and over so many times death no longer phased him.
He said he wanted nothing more than to die. So I did to him what he asked for and removed his hat, causing the snowman to collapse.
I was now in my twenties. It had been many years since I'd last seen my father, even in his snowman form. I tried telling my mother, my wife, and my five year old son. They each laugh at the story as though it was a joke. But I knew the truth. My father's hat was magic. And very soon, I planned to bring him back to show them all that I'm not crazy.
After my dad died in a car accident last month, it was one of the worst things to ever happen to me. I'd often find myself sobbing behind closed doors at the fact that I'd never get to play ball with him or have a father figure in my life to teach me things. The one thing he left me was his favorite hat, a black fedora. It was made of somewhat cheap materials, but it smelled like him. It was the one thing he'd never leave the house without. I cherished it.
I cherished his hat so dearly that by the winter that followed, when it snowed heavy, my friends and I decided to build a snowman. It had a wide bottom, a smaller center, and an even smaller head. We used rocks to form a smile, eyes, and a nose. We needed something to complete it, so I grabbed my dad's hat and placed atop its head.
After I put the hat on its head, the wind began to swirl around us, carrying snowflakes in its wake. When the wind settled, the snowman began to blink and twitch. Had we actually brought the snowman to life. My friends and I gathered around as it leaned forward and started coughing. He leaned back up and looked around at us, blinking multiple times. He looked over at me, and in a familiar sounding voice, it said my name. I knew in an instant the voice belonged to my dad.
I went to hug his snowy body and he responded with a chuckle. He tried moving his stick arms to hug me but was unable to. I felt bad for him. He asked how he got there and we explained we had no idea. It happened after we put his old hat on his head.
We spent the next couple of hours spending as much time together as we could. He was able to build strength in his stick arms enough to participate in a snowball fight. But as the sun went down, my mother called me back inside. I'd tell her what we'd spent our time doing out there, but there's no way she'd believe me.
The next day I went outside to find that most of the snow had melted. And dad's hat sitting on the porch steps.
A full year went by when I looked out the window at the heavy snow that had fallen overnight, looked to my dad's hat, and was reminded about bringing my dad back to life. I grabbed his hat and gathered some friends to help me build another snowman.
Shortly after his construction, I placed the hat on top of his head, and felt the familiar wind swirl around us.
When the snowman awoke, he screamed for a few straight minutes. My friends and I had to cover our ears. After he calmed down, we asked him why he was screaming. He said he'd spent what felt like an eternity in hell. Constant heat surrounding him as he was forced to relive his death over and over so many times death no longer phased him.
He said he wanted nothing more than to die. So I did to him what he asked for and removed his hat, causing the snowman to collapse.
I was now in my twenties. It had been many years since I'd last seen my father, even in his snowman form. I tried telling my mother, my wife, and my five year old son. They each laugh at the story as though it was a joke. But I knew the truth. My father's hat was magic. And very soon, I planned to bring him back to show them all that I'm not crazy.
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