Dear Dad

I had a very emotional dream about you last night. You were real as can be, all but in the flesh, and that just was what I wanted the most- to hug you. You reminded me that you're always with me, but sometimes spirit isn't enough. Sometimes spirit sucks.

I've been very sad today that you're gone. In a desperate-t0-wake-up-from-this-dream kind of sorrow. Because it's not a dream. And it never will be.

There's nothing more to say. Forever longing for the lost father. Forever human. Forever spirit.

I love you dad.

Dear Dad

Man stands alone. I used this phrase whenever you had to go and do your thing outside. My dad used an outhouse and the woods for most of his bathroom needs throughout his life. He grew up in the woods and spent as much time as possible outdoors. He was one of the few true woodsmen left, the kind you'd read about in louis l' amour books.

Man stands alone. This morning I wonder how alone you felt, with your rare illness caused by tainted medication. I wonder about your anger and your frustration, not only from your illness but your injuries throughout your life. Your ability to feel and show your true self was very limited in the end. Always through a fog of pain and medication did you see and feel. Always tainted in the end.

What you gave us, is nothing short of a miracle. When the EMS doc in San Diego said out of the ones he'd met that you were the only one that hadn't become a drug addict, was still married, and still alive, it showed us what a rare breed you were indeed. I'm glad you never became a drug addict, and never left us. I just wish we could've found a cure for your illness.

In the late 80's my father took medication that was tainted with impurities that caused a degenerative nerve condition called EMS. It is what caused him to take his life. Some people think it was depression but it was the never ending pain from EMS that drove my father to his end.

As the sun rises and the new day dawns, I revel in my human body, and my human experience. I am tremendously thankful for my human experiences and for all the range of emotion that comes with it. Depth of heart.

And I am thankful for my man stands alone kind of father. What a unique man to have for my father. EMS and all. I love you dad.

Dear Dad

Over and over I write to you in my head. Letters upon letters. Conversations to the past, of the past, present, and future.

My heart swims in longing for your rugged diesel and spruce scented clothing, the sound of wood thudding against the galvanized tub in mom's kitchen as you loaded the wood in, the soft tones of your guitar as you strummed a new tune, and the scratchy stubble of your lovely face as you leaned in close while giving a long hug. All these memories, forever held close to my heart.

Part of me holds back, afraid of the pain that comes from such an intense loss. I do not have the personal space right now to grieve. I have the tools, but not the space. I am not ready to go deep. Part of my scoffs at my fear of pain, but part of me knows that when I'm ready, I'll go into my heartspace and do the deep feeling, and the deep healing. I feel then we'll be together in spirit. Right now, it's even painful to feel your spirit, so far off and so different. But so beautiful. I just miss you, deeply and sadly so.

I cannot bear to look at the clothes within the black plastic bags. With a lighthearted attempt I try to peek in and end up in a ball of tears and anguish. I cannot deny my tears. But I deny the depth of my human heart. I've had some heart palpitations in the past few weeks, a physical reminder to tend to the spiritual and emotional needs of my being. Spirit manifests physical.

Sometimes I get angry when other people talk about their dads. I get angry that people don't understand or respect my pain. I get angry that I have pain.

But then I try to find my joy. I try to remember the light of the past, and let it balance the grief of the present. I try to find balance.

You are so far away. So beyond this lifetime. I sense such a freedom of your spirit, the joy of traveling with no limitations. Spirit is non-linear. I love your freedom. I honor your choice and your joy at your present state.

To anyone stopping by- All are welcome to read my writings. Thank's for visiting.

Dear Dad

I'm sitting here with my littlest one, the one you never got to hold in person. I don't feel as sad right now. I was able to release a lot of anger and fear a few nights ago. Ryan's been wearing your jeans. They're a bit short but they look nice. Somehow I both like and dislike seeing him wear your jeans. It hurts to know they'll never be on you again, but it's good to see them regardless.

Nahni is seven weeks old. There's something comforting knowing you did see pictures of her. A part of me will always wish you would've waited until Hunter came. He's so beautiful. I know you saw him being born and met his spirit. But it's just not the same. It's just one of those unresolved aspects of your passing.

I write to you, many times a day. I just don't write here. I think about you, when the wind blows and I hear rustling leaves, or when we drive by wooded swamps. I think about you when I see tracks in the snow, and when I hear a someone strumming an acoutical guitar. I smiled when I looked at a picture of you yesterday. It made me happy to see your face.

I love you.