You can come for a ride with me, but it’s not going to be like most rides. We’ll find the old dirt roads with not much to see. Woods, streams, mountains, and more dirt roads steadied with ruts and bumps and dust. The windows will be down. Wind will stream inside one and out the other. And the conversation might be about who visited who in which dream and what had been said and the possibilities of why. Or, we won’t talk. Instead we might listen to the chirping of the birds. Or, if we’re lucky the rumbling of a thunderstorm will tickle our imaginations until finally it hits and the dusty dirt road becomes a slippery mud pit. If the storm is bad enough, and the wind strong enough, a few branches might come down, even a tree. That’s OK though. We have rope and a chain saw, and besides, the story just got better. Thanks for coming on these rides, Dad. Even though you’re gone, I still talk with you. Sorry about the yelling- Sometimes you do feel a bit too far away.
My brother, Chris, yet again knocked it out of the park by capturing this incredible song while it was playing live on the radio. Thank you, Chris!
Miss you, Dad. What a gift it is to listen to this gem. And to all of my WP friends out there who’ve taken a moment to express kindness concerning my Father’s passing, thank you. I hope you enjoy this as much as I do.
That’s my old man singing and playing the guitar. He wrote the song.
What an amazing talent, Dad, I should have told you more often.
My Dad would have been 66 today. It’s been a tough few days leading up to this. The emotions snuck up on me. I didn’t expect it to be like this. At night I’ve been sitting on our back deck looking at the stars waiting for him to show himself. Sometimes I play his music. I don’t always handle that too well.
I took Gavin fishing this past weekend. He met an adorable little girl who was bird watching with her mother. Within minutes they were talking and it didn’t take long before Gavin announced to them that his Grandfather died. My father was amazing with Gavin. Which, for me, was healing to see. When I was Gavin’s age my father wasn’t part of our family unit.
Thanks everyone, for the digital support and friendship. I consider of number of you friends. Even if only through these online channels, you are great people. I’m thankful for that and I’m thankful for WP. One of the bright spots for me (concerning the writing world) was Tara and her accepting a short story of mine into a wonderful horror anthology that she edited and published. Tara, I appreciate you. I still can’t find the motivation to submit any work and you were able to get that unstuck. I know I can ‘get there’ again, but I guess not yet.
So, I think I’ll take myself fishing today and see if I can find Dad.
i drove to my father’s house in Massachusetts. a group of us made a large dump run for my step-mother. we even pulled the old pool table out from the basement. i held onto one end as a neighbor cut it in half so we could fit it into the trailer i felt a bit sad then
after everyone left i stayed with my step-mother and listened to some of my father’s music he was damn good but gone now
i walked into each room, a house i lived in as a small child, and walked around the yard. so much had changed but everything was the same
eventually i loaded my truck and drove home on streets filled with traffic, but i only saw blank and empty faces, gawking and waving unhappily at slow drivers
I cleaned and oiled one of your old rifles yesterday I wasn’t sure if it would explode I closed my eyes and pulled the trigger Passion filled my lungs and my heart You did that for me Dad And your rifle is just fine