These days when I dream of Dad, he is walking. #drawntogether #fatherdaughter

These days when I dream of Dad, he is walking.

I also feel peaceful and protected.  It feels very much like:

I find myself mesmerized when I drive by sites of beauty and sentimentality.  Yesterday afternoon, the trees glistened in the sun as I drove west on Hastings in Burnaby.  Wet with raindrops, they were lit against a dark sky in the east and an intense rainbow appeared.  A few days ago, I was driving West along Pender towards the bridge and I saw four distinct old men, whose solitude and whose character stuck with me so profoundly.

• The man in the wheelchair, sitting and smiling at pigeons, a beam of sun warming him.

• The  seemingly 90+ years old Woody Allen look-alike with his curved spine and his high-waisted pants held tight with a belt, in his cardigan and wearing glasses, gleefully sucking on a cigarette in front of MacLeod’s Books.

• The stately dressed old man, with his hat and long coat and his pants alarmingly short, using his cane to hit signs and bikes and other objects has he walked.

• And the Santa Claus, walking serenely East on Pender in the midst of suits and high heels.

They stayed with me, these images.  Were they messages from Dad?  The sentimentality I felt for him in those moments actually filled me with peace.

Starting tomorrow, I will be sharing Dad’s journal, YOU KNOW — NOTHING, in parts to celebrate the approach the release of Drawn Together.  It’s a gem.

 

The book,  Drawn Together, is getting close to completion!  Greg Salisbury of Influence Publishing is hard at work finalizing the work and I am so thankful to him (and to my brother Fred, who is helping with images) for the hard work.  I feel an intense MISSING when I think about holding the book.  I can hardly think about it.  But that is how I anticipate it.  I may feel filled and whole.  In fact, I know I will!

See also:

Life has no opposite

Healing sock monkey watching over Dad

Document it.  All of it.

We’ve become a band of gypsies

Dad’s inner work

Dad’s last day

A pencil box. Regarded with reverence.

Change.  What does it mean?

Saudade- the emotion of missing

I miss the mundane to-do lists

Drawn Together

My mom’s ashes in the vintage makeup case. Dad’s ashes in red velvet by his fave pencil case.

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