It's just a mug

The other day when I was rushing around to get myself and the family ready to leave for a graduation party I managed to break my favorite mug.  It wasn't just any mug, it was the mug I gave to my dad on one of my last visits to Chicago when he was still fairly healthy, the mug I handed to him when he was sitting at the old wooden farmhouse dining table in my parent's kitchen.  He was sitting in his usual spot at the head of the table with a thick slice of bread on a paper towel waiting to greet us upon our arrival.  I took Amelia with me on that trip.  I have so many great memories of her and my dad on that visit.  He adored her.  They would sit at the table and play cards with one another or giggle about silly things over breakfast.  My dad even hop scotched with her out on the driveway despite his balance being a bit off. 
The broken mug was a Starbucks one featuring the San Diego skyline.  It was a last minute impulse buy purchased at Lindberg Field.  I bought it for him because he was such a tea fanatic.  After he died I took it out of my mom's kitchen cupboard and brought it home with me.  It's been my preferred mug ever since. 

I was so pissed off at myself over breaking it.   I tried not to cry about it.  Afterall it's just a mug. Despite myself I cried a little.  When Aaron asked what was wrong and I explained what had happened it made me cry more.  From the backseat of our car Amelia piped in, "Mom, look at my watch."  She held up her slender pink wrist and pointed at her ladybug watch.  "Remember how Grandpa always wore a watch?  We still have his watch.  Before I go bed I hang my watch on grandpa's picture in my room." 

I have seen her watch on his picture but I never realized that she hung it there because her watch made her think of him.  That was all I needed to hear to feel better.  I don't need a mug to remember my dad.  It's amazing how my daughter has such wisdom at age 6.  She reminds so much of my Dad.  She is a mini Seamus.