Dear Dad

I feel quite unsettled today. Not emotionally, but physically, like I only exist in my head. When I thought of what you would say to help that disconnectedness, I heard "Go outside and take a walk". Going outside must have helped you tremendously. It gave you enough clarity and peace to keep going. And it was where you found your peace in the end. It's been one month since you left your body. We all miss you. But I'm happy that you're no longer in pain.

I think I'll go outside and take a walk today. Thanks to my father-in-law, I now have access to land that feels somewhat like my home, and perhaps I'll go walk that later tonight with my drum. I have a drum waiting to be made- with elk hide on a 15" frame. It has your energy in it and the energy of my experience with your passing. I think the drum will come during the next new moon.

I miss you.

Dear Dad

One of our last conversations was about your exercise plans. You talked about how you wanted to regain lost strength and be as strong and as lean as you were 25 years ago. I cautioned you to work out sensibly and honor your 50 year old body and it's limitations, rather than to expect your body to be capable of what it was 25 years ago. I think what your body was capable of in general is amazing. The amount of physical labor you endured and delighted in when possible was intense at the very least.

As a little girl, I loved walking behind you, always 5 feet or more to avoid the brush whiplash, because I loved watching your gait and listening to your soft footsteps. Now, as an adult, I know what you are, you are an earth shaman and woodsman. It's my explanation for the way you connected and communicated with the world around you. Everything you did with nature and your woodwork had a spritual essence to it, because it was spiritual. The wood spoke to you as you carved and shaped it to fit into your master design. The grass and trees spoke to you as you wound your way through them following a path only walked by deer. The lake spoke to you, easing your pain and fear, reconnecting you to your heart. And the earth yielded her treasures to you, delighting in your depth and appreciation of her gifts.

In the end, your physical body was ready to leave, and your spiritual body was ready for change. All is as it should be.

Dear Dad

I wasn't sure if I wanted to create this website just yet. It came to me yesterday that I needed a forum to communicate to you and a webjournal is right up my alley. Even though you'll never read these words, I still feel a part of this will reach you, if just the love I have for you. It's been a day less a month since you passed away. Some things are harder for me now, such as looking at your picture, and thinking about mom being alone. Some things are easier, such as singing your songs and thinking about my children not having you around anymore. And I miss you just as much if not more.

We're all having a beautiful evening. The kids and Ryan are watching a muppet dvd. I'm taking some quiet time. My children are so big. Little Nahni is so big and strong. She's five weeks old now. I wish you could've met her before you died. It's one of the sadest points in my grieving process. I understand your timing, I really do. I also understand so much about your life and appreciate all that you were able to do and give. You are my hero, dear father, and I am incredibly thankful and blessed to have you for my father.

Everyday is beautiful. I have much in my life that is because of you. My appreciation for hard work, for the beauty of nature, the joy of playing with my children, the love of good pancakes, and so much more. Every day I am blessed because of you.

I don't wish you were still here and in the physical form you were in. I am glad for your peace and freedom. But I still miss you, terribly so. Somedays I'm angry, and just angry- not at you or anyone. And somedays I'm just sad. I'm not hiding my feelings and am trying to find peaceful means to exploring my grief, and honoring my process. I asked Ryan for a big boom drum from Hoveys for my birthday. Something I can beat long and hard instead of breaking my floor with a crock pot. I also wish you could've seen our kitchen. I think you would've liked it.

There's much left to be desired since you passed. I will always miss you, but am glad you're free. I love you dad.