My Dad told us we’d be different. That we’re Scottish and that we’d be barrel chested. I didn’t know what that meant. He told us that we’d be smart and not always understood. He told us lots of things that were hard to believe. He positioned us with confidence. His own creativity was taken for granted and I believe he wanted my brother and I to not let anyone take from us what might be ours in the space of creativity. I’d like to believe that we can all celebrate our differences including our talents. I’d like to believe it’s possible. I’m proud of you, Dad. You had the mind to be yourself. I’ll continue to do the same.
*** That is the exact post I placed on my personal FB page as a partial goodbye to my father. I share it here because I feel a sense of respect and friendship with many of you whom I’ve connected with over the last number of years. I know some of you care, or for that, thank you. And while for a time, I didn’t see my father as a child, and when I did it was once a week on Sunday, he still made an impact on my life. I loved him and still do. May it be that I see him often in his perfect rest. Love you, Dad.
It was my father who helped to give permission to believe in writing.
I prefer being transparent. I want people to know what’s going on.
No one can find this location but myself. It’s really not much to see. A cluttering of leaves and trees. However, this image knows me intimately. I stood in the woods, alone and hurt and leveled my sight upward; capturing my state of mind in a single image. I see a number of memories in this photograph. I feel an upcoming loss, with the practicality of hope that’s been arriving in waves and leaving me flat. A month long roller coaster teasing finality as though it wishes to torture not only the host, but all attached. Life is funny and hard like that. I can handle the transitions while I continue to pray for his freedom from pain; a curse which claimed him from childhood on, as though an unseen hood floated along with the best of his talents only to dampen each achievement with clutter. We’ll see what’s to come as ‘this’ will never happen again, not even the leaves.
At 3:38 AM an orb appeared above and to the left of our bed. The orb floated upward, lengthened and vanished. I had just returned from having gone downstairs to drink a glass of water. I was wide awake.
Whatever it was, was non-threatening.
Do any of you have any experience with something like this?
The orb arrived just after I had crossed my heart and started to pray for my family.