The other morning I woke up to find myself heartbroken. I’d just had an amazing dream about my father—he was standing on the terrace steps in my backyard looking so handsome and dapper as always in a fabulous suit with peak lapels and those cool alligator shoes he wore. Just as I glanced up to see him, he pulled his sunglasses off his face and there were his eyes. He had the most incredible blue eyes, like the color of a male blue jay. I couldn’t believe it. He was there right in front of me, and just as I jumped up to run to him I woke up! I’m still overwhelmed with emotion even as I write this. It was so incredibly real. My father, William Taft Ruffalo, passed away in April 1993. He was rushed to the emergency room and I never saw him alive again.
After I awoke, I was consumed all day with the thought of him. Was that him letting me know he was seeing my home and watching over me? Ever since my husband and I moved into our newly renovated home I’ve wished that my father could have seen what we created—all that I’d ever dreamed of having in a home, a sanctuary. In a way it’s like my art, my expression of what’s inside me. I knew he’d love it.
My dad was one of those amazing fathers who’d make you feel special for even the little things. Once, when I was in my twenties and a divorced single mom, my dad came to stay with me. I was working on a television show that had long hours, and he was the ultimate babysitter. I came in late after shooting one night, tired and ready to drop, feeling alone. My father looked at me, gave me a hug, and told me that the towels he showered with just moments ago smelled so great and that they were so white. I looked at him and I remember a smile literally bursting out! He made me feel like I was the most phenomenal homemaker. I think he was probably shocked that I had it together, given that he’d spent the majority of my childhood telling me to clean my room or else!
A “late bloomer,” my dad became the most amazing father, and he was the most incredible grandfather to my son Michael. So when we lost him unexpectedly, it was just so shocking, and it rocked my world in a way I will never forget. One minute he couldn’t breathe, was rushed to the hospital, and the next thing I know this priest came in and said that he was sorry! I can still feel the jolt that started in my gut and went through my body. I wanted to just lose it, and then all of a sudden it was like someone slapped me—I saw my mother begin to go pale and collapse and my son turn to me, and I knew I had no choice but to pull it together.
It was so strange walking back into my parents’ condo in Scottsdale that day knowing he’d never physically be there again. There was his chair, slippers, reading glasses and the remote, which was always in his possession. The navy silk robe that my mom had given him years ago for Christmas—it was lying on the end of the bed. It smelled like him: Old Spice. I’m not even sure he liked that cologne. I’d given it to him when I was a little girl and he wore it for the rest of his life! All those things and so much more of my father were everywhere. This place would never be the same. I packed my mom a bag and took her to my house.
It’s funny how the places where we live mark our lives in such distinctive ways. Home is always about us, and about sharing with the ones we love, so I guess it’s only natural that my father would be so much in my heart and mind at this time. Although my father isn’t physically here with me, I feel him so strongly, even as I write this. I have some of my father’s things, like those alligator shoes, his camel Bijan overcoat, and his antique lion bookends that my mother just gave me this weekend. They’re now in my living room, placed prominently on my bookshelf. They’re the little things that carry on the tradition of home for me.
Look around your home today and take in your memories. Even if it’s all new and you’re just beginning, I bet you have something old that you’ve brought with you that feels like home. If you’re lucky enough to have the option, take the time to pick up a phone and call your dad or mom and tell them just how much they mean to you and that you love them—or better yet, do it in person, along with a hug. I saw my mom this weekend in Arizona and did just that. I guess in my own way I also did that in my dreams with my dad. What I would have given for a hug!
What are you waiting for?
Change Your Home, Change the World atwww.mollandersonhome.com