Fruit basket

I don’t think I’ve ever told my most favorite story about my father.

I had just given birth to my eldest son Duncan, after suffering through the stillbirth of my son Douglas.

My ex-husband and I were at home with our newborn and I was so intense following Duncan’s birth that I barely slept for a week.

I think I had maybe 8 hours total sleep in 7 days.

It’s was awful and exhausting.

I thought I had to be perfect and soothe the baby every time he cried.

My parents came over to visit and I BURST INTO TEARS.

Everything was wrong.

Nothing was working out right.

I was a terrible mother because I couldn’t manage my little family.

That’s how I felt.

The feelings I was having manifested themselves in a wailing cry.

My dad asked what was wrong.

I simply told him I was upset because all the beautiful fruit I bought before going in to the hospital had spoiled and wasted.

And it was true, I was VERY upset about that fruit.

My dad took it upon himself to go to the store (and I don’t think my dad has grocery shopped EVER since my mom always does it) and he picked out the JUCIEST, RIPEST, MOST BEAUTIFUL FRUIT you can imagine.

He bought two of everything they had in the store, I think, from bananas to pineapples, apples to plums.

He brought a MASSIVE basket of fruit over our house and presented me with it.

Which started me crying ALL OVER AGAIN because it was just the SWEETEST gesture.

I’ll never forget the kindness he showed me that day.

If you know my father, you know he’s not prone to demonstrate love through traditional channels.

This is how he chose to tell me he loved me and that everything was going to be okay.

And it was.