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.
And he had stayed while the rain came down; he had stayed while she sat alone, only a blanket provided comfort, and he looking out the window at the rain thinking about how he might need to leave or to maybe not be in the same place as her, anymore, and the rain came and nothing mattered about any of it other than the thinking of what to do and the thinking of what to do meant something needed to be done.
It was a stone like any other stone except it had a mouth and spoke of pine needles and quantum therapy and about how a few fingers could cross the world if only for eyes to see and a heart to feel It told about how the heavens rained down so hard that the stone’s eyes were worn away and while it admitted it never had fingers, it felt it nearly could have while sadly its soul drifted away, quickly even, then slowly as the rain lessened Eventually the stone lay still with a bit of sun and less self and more thoughts with less sight until it was found by a frog hopping around laughter lit by courage and carried by a young girl wearing a yellow hat She dabbed the stone with a dry towel and said