As the weather starts to break a bit, we make plans for Spring Break, and I book my kids in a variety of Summer camps, I am reminded that this summer will be different because we won't have my dad to share the summer with,
My dad kept these on the rotation, in every flavor. Not even sure how he gets them now because I think they are the equivalent of "kid crack"--made with artificial coloring, flavoring, and sugar. To my kids though, these freeze pops were love and summer wrapped in a bow.
Some love stories are full of grand gestures, expensive gifts and grandiose words. Others, are small. They aren't loud or boastful. They are not proud. They are kind, patient and persevering. They are communicated through the acts of planning, observation, and generosity.
They show up as things someone does simply because they know it will bring you joy.
For my kids, their grandfather’s love lived in a never‑ending supply of freeze pops.
The freeze pops were expressions of love.
Every summer, when we’d race into his backyard for a day in his pool, he made sure the freezer was packed with freeze pops in every flavor--blue raspberry, cherry, grape… colors as bright as the childhood memories he wanted them to make. They were love personified in one sweet treat. And, they represented a tiny act of rebellion because they were things that my mom would never buy.
His freeze pops weren’t just snacks. They were something that they would only share with him. And they were magic.
Like him, this act was unassuming, kind, and pure love.
He never made a big deal about it. However, like his love they were always there every time we came in the house.
Looking back now, with him gone, those simple frozen treats feel like something much bigger. They were his way of saying:
- I want you to look forward to visit so I got something just for you.
- I want you to know how happy I am to see you so I have prepared for your visit.
- I bought this home with the pool so that you could enjoy it.
- I am here waiting to see you.
- I love you.
In retrospect, the fact that the freeze pops were there were not a small gesture. They were a huge testimony of the size of his courage and his heart. For the past twenty-five years, my dad's body was debilitated, the consequences of a degenerative disease. So, the fact that he was committed to going to the store to get the freeze pops so he could put smiles on my kids' faces is truly incredible.
It’s amazing how the smallest gestures become the things that stay with us the longest. As I look forward to this summer, I am committed to enjoying it as a testament to the gratitude I feel for being loved by him. However, the pool days will be slightly les sweet. because we won't be able to bask in the warmth of his smile, the sound of his laugh, and the feeling of being completely and unquestionably loved.
And, there will be no more freeze pops because after all, we probably didn't need that artificial coloring, flavoring, and sugar anyway...
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