R had a piano recital today at the local mall as part of a concert series at his music school that they do leading up to Christmas.

He wanted to suit up for it so we did some last minute shopping. While in the trial room, he was set on a white shirt and a black suit combo. He typically chooses classic styles and combinations so it wasn’t a surprise in that way but before he put on the tie, he looked exactly like my dad in his advocate attire ready to go to court. When I shared this with him, he had a lot of questions about the whys and what’s of a uniform for lawyers. He wasn’t satisfied with my explanation of an advocate neck band after I used bow tie to give him a reference and asked to see a picture of Cheenu Thaatha going to court.

We don’t have a single picture of him in his court attire because by the time we got a digital camera, Appa had stopped going to court due to health issues. There may be a passport photo of him in his coat but nothing with the full paraphernalia. With nothing to show the kiddo, I asked my cousin who is now practicing, to send a picture of him in regalia. Only picture he has of himself, is the Passport photo in his coat. He has been directed to rectify this right away.

It’s funny how grief and time play with our memories. My brain, in its infinite wisdom, had conjured to never bring up this image of my dad, an image that was the very definition of him, for a good 15 odd years. It was my daily chore to iron our school uniforms and dad’s advocate attire along with polishing the boots. I took, what I find unusual now, a lot of pride in the ironing, and always found our neighborhood Dhobi’s work shoddy in spite of him having better tools at hand. The neck band needed extra time on the hottest setting for it crisp up but had to make sure it didnt burn.

So today when I was ironing for the kiddo, it felt very emotional, a certain life comes full circle moment. While I’ve ironed his clothes before, that white shirt and black coat dialed back the years.