Filling a Cavity

Had it seriously been five years?!

As I walked through the doors of my dentist's office, it hit me that the last time I was here I had brought my Dad in for some dental work. 

I think that my Dad actually didn't mind having not great teeth, because it gave him the opportunity to see one of the people his heart loved: Brian. 

Brian was drawn into Dad's tribe when he was around 16 or 17 and, once ensconced in his heart, Dad didn't let him go.

I checked in with Jen at the front desk - she has had a child since I last saw her; imagine! 

Then I sat in the waiting room and drew in a deep breath. 

On some days I feel the void his absence has left more than on others. I didn't know that this day would be one of those days. 

Before I could become completely maudlin, Jo came to take me back to the room. Jo has worked with Brian for over 20 years, and she forgave me for not remembering. She did x-rays and got me ready for Dr Brian to fix my broken tooth. 

"Did I mention to you that you're one of my oldest friends?" he began. 

"As long as you don't say I'm one of your eldest friends," I replied, and everything was as it always was.

My broken tooth contained an old silver-type filling that had to be drilled out and replaced, and then Brian built back the broken tooth so smoothly that I can't differentiate between the original and the artificial. 

While this was going on, Jo and Brian chatted over my head, their familiar voices almost like, well, family. 

Then as he was preparing to head to his next patient, he paused and — almost like it was out of thin air — he said, "Sometimes your Dad would say to me, 'You are precious to me'..." 

He looked at me. "You are precious to me," he said softly. 

A few minutes later he came up to the reception desk where I had bumped into my sister, who had booked an appointment six months ago for this very time! “You are precious to me," he said to her. 

"You were very precious to him," I replied. 

What a benediction, a bene dictum, for two daughters who had both been wanting a word from their Dad that day! 

Words ... they have so much power. They have the power of life and of death. A friend of mine who knows me gave me a splendid book not long ago, Peter H. Reynolds' The Word Collector. This book is the book I wish I had written. It is simple yet profound. I have it on my piano to remind me to use words wisely and well. There is a proverb in the Bible which says, "A word fitly spoken is like apples of gold in pictures of silver." A more modern translation reads, "The right word spoken at the right time is as beautiful as gold apples in a silver bowl" (Proverbs 25:11, KJV and NCV).

That is what Brian's words were to us last Thursday. 

Today, February 22, would have been my Mum's 84th birthday. She loved words, as did Dad. So in honour of her I have something to give away: a box set of three of Peter H. Reynolds' books. It contains Say Something, Happy Dreamer, and, of course, The Word Collector. 

To have a chance at winning this collection, all you have to do is write a comment - either at the end of this blog post, or on Facebook or Instagram, telling about someone whose words changed your life / outlook / day for the better. The Good Rancher himself is going to be the judge! I will read him the comments, minus the author's name, and he will choose the winner. 

Happy birthday, Mum. 

We love you, Dad. 

And from all six of Dad's children I say, You are precious to us, Brian.