Author’s Note
When someone we love passes away, their belongings hold the essence of who they were—like their favorite jewelry or sweater. These items are not just objects; they are filled with memories, traits, and special moments that make them unique.
These cherished items become treasure chests, brimming with love and lessons, embodying the profound impact our loved ones had on our lives. For those left behind, discovering these memories is a comforting reminder that they are still with us.
"A Father’s Love" is a fictional story that reflects the memories I have of my father and the toolbox he gifted me as I set out to leave home and begin my college journey. I carted that toolbox wherever I moved to, and wherever I settled into—the tools were a godsend. It wasn’t until later in life that I finally realized my dad didn’t just gift me a container of tools to help me around the house—he gifted me with the “life tools” I would need to be independent and survive.
This story about Orie and her dad may remind you of your own treasured keepsakes, the simple things that hold so much love.
We can’t keep everything, but hold onto one when you can. In the end, it’s never just about the objects we hold onto — it’s the love, lessons, and memories they quietly carry.
©2025 Myrna Urmanita. All Rights Reserved.
A Father’s Love
A Father's Gift that Lasted a Lifetime
“Give me the Stanley flathead, Orie,” her dad called out, reaching for the screwdriver.
So how many 7-year-old little girls do you know who could tell you the difference between a Flathead and a Phillips screwdriver?
That’s the kind of girl Oriana was. Orie was a nickname her dad gave her. She enjoyed working with tools, even while loving her dolls. Skirts and dresses never appealed to her; she was much more comfortable in pants.
As one of three children—two boys and one girl—Orie was the only daughter, the youngest child, and the baby. Despite having two brothers, she shadowed her father, captivated by everything he did around the house. Whenever he was busy building something in the backyard or garage, Orie was there, eager to lend a hand.
She would spring out of bed on Saturday mornings, racing to find him.
“Hi, Dad, what are you building?” she’d ask, eyes wide with excitement.
“I’m building a barbecue pit. Want to help?” he’d reply.
“What can I do?” she squeaked, jumping up and down, her heart fluttering with joy.
And that was how Orie spent her weekends growing up—her dad, the handyman, and she, his enthusiastic assistant.
Today, at 55, Oriana still has her toolbox. It’s a mismatched collection gathered over the years, but her very first real toolbox was a gift from her dad.
When Orie left for college, he handed her a brand-new toolbox filled with tools, alongside a Samsonite luggage set from her mom—a nod to her new journey. The toolbox was a practical gift, but also a promise: that she could fix anything that came her way.
At seven, Orie wasn’t thinking about symbolism. She was just being herself—doing what she enjoyed, hanging out with her dad. But as the years passed, that toolbox came to represent more than a collection of tools. It was a vessel of love from a man who often kept his emotions inside.
Years later, she was heartbroken when the toolbox was stolen as she moved into a new apartment. It had been a lifeline during her college years, helping her tackle everything from hanging pictures to assembling art projects.
But she didn’t give up on it. She began to rebuild the collection, piece by piece. Every visit home meant asking her dad for an extra screwdriver or a hammer, which he gladly shared—sometimes slipping in a pair of pliers.
When he passed away, Orie and her older brother sorted through his tools in the garage. She claimed the ones her brother didn’t want, grateful to carry forward what their dad no longer needed.
Opening his toolbox, she was hit with a familiar scent that whisked her back to those days in the garage by his side. Even now, whenever she opens her own toolbox, that scent still lingers—a bittersweet reminder of their time together.
Her dad’s tools transported her back to those carefree days: building the barbecue pit, helping in the garden, and learning without realizing she was learning.
As a child, it had all felt like fun.
“This is fun! Shoveling sand is like being at the beach!”
“Can I help you again tomorrow, Dad?” she thought, closing her eyes, remembering.
Now, as an adult, she still carries those memories—memories filled with shared experiences of fun and learning. Though he was no longer with her, everything he taught her lived on in her heart.
One afternoon, sifting through her desk drawers, Orie found her old diary. Inside was a folded piece of paper tucked deep within the pages. She slipped on her glasses, and as the words came into focus, she silently read:
Dear Orie,
This toolbox is not just filled with tools to build with, but tools for your success in whatever you choose to do with your life.
Craftsmanship - Have pride in everything you do.
Content - When you do your very best, feel the happiness that comes with satisfaction.
Mentorship - Be kind and help others. Be a leader who guides and lets go, not a manager who manages to get ahead.
Passion - Be excited to get up every morning and love what you do.
Excellence - Do YOUR very best; do not do it to be better than others.
Get Involved - get your hands dirty. Don’t be afraid to do the work.
Love, Dad
Her dad’s tools were more than metal and wood. They were symbols of his character, of the father who mentored her through his quiet skills, artistry, and dedication.
She carried his lessons with her—through her life, her writing, and every act of care she poured into her work. By holding onto his tools, Orie kept her connection with her father alive, honoring his memory and the rich legacy he left behind.
Orie kept the Stanley Flathead and Phillips screwdrivers and tagged them, “Dad’s Tools of Love.”
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Some things, like love, quietly shape us — some truths carry on.