Tuesday, July 27, 2010
Monday, July 26, 2010
Soul's Dance
Soul’s Dance
My feet tap to an inner beat
That plays inside my head
I barely feel the burning heat
As I dance upon the sand
I bend and sway, I leap away
From the rush of foamy waves
Mind’s music blends with water’s roar
As I dance upon the shore
A joy to feel my body’s motion
Feel the sand cooled by the ocean.
This simple act, my spirit’s free
As I dance beside an azure sea
Towards the sky, my hands do reach
Exalted by the dazzling beach
This simple act, my spirit’s free
As I dance beside an azure sea
Towards the sky, my hands do reach
Exalted by the dazzling beach
A happy soul merges with the land
As I dance upon the sand.
© Diana July 2010
© Diana July 2010
Time In A Bottle
How I wish I could capture time in a bottle, then release a bit when extra is needed.
My dad passed away on June 5, 2010. He was cremated. There was no memorial. Dad was an atheist and that's the way he wanted it.
I finished a really good audiobook while I was driving down there, one that I highly recommend...."The Girl Who Kicked The Hornet's Nest" by the late Swedish author Stieg Larsson. It's the conclusion of a trilogy.
My trip's purpose was to select a few mementos of times long gone. Items to remind me of the man I called "Dad", pictures from his life, a few of his paintings, a selection from his music and movie collection, and an assortment of nik-naks collected during his lifetime.
I can feel your eyebrows raise in question, "Step-dad...but I thought she was talking about her father?"
It is true, my dad came out of the closet several years after my parent's divorce and for the past fifteen years has spent his life with a pretty terrific guy named Rick. I'm proud to call Rick my step-dad (for want of a better word). He stood by my dad during the good times, as well as the bad. He was there to care for my dad as his health failed, and was beside my father when he drew his last breath. Rick is the one that called to ask me to come and take what I wanted.
When I was making my selections, I tried to pick out some small items for my brother and sister, too. I hate making choices for others, especially when there has been almost no relationship between my siblings and our father.
I don't know what happened between Dad and them, maybe it was his lifestyly they could not tolerate, but for now, I'll attribute it to absence. I think of the song by Cat Steven's called "Cats In The Cradle" when I consider the father that was seldom around while we were growing up. He had his own agenda and children weren't as important to him when he was a younger man. He left the raising of children to my mother.
Dad died with few regrets, but the one he voiced to me, towards the end of his life, was how much he missed family being around. I, the least favored of his children, was the only one that made an effort to call him once a week and visit a couple times a year.
I didn't consider those calls a burden, but thought of the irony. He waited for my calls, hoping for news about his other two offspring. Sometimes I was able to oblige him.
My brother and sister have not spoken to one another for probably 20 years or more. I am the go-between, but in my dreams, still wish I had been born into a tighter-knit family.
His death was sudden. I'm still filled with a mix of relief and sorrow. His quality of life was almost non-existant. Two years ago, he finally lost the use of his legs and could no longer walk. He spent his days in a chair. His eyesight and hearing were failing rapidly. All the things he had loved to do and could just a few years prior, had been stripped away. Death was a mercy, but I miss our phone conversations.
My dad passed away on June 5, 2010. He was cremated. There was no memorial. Dad was an atheist and that's the way he wanted it.
Last week, I drove to Albuquerque, New Mexico....to my dad and step-dad's house. I took Perry with me and sent Fyre and Abby to Kellene V's place. I knew they would enjoy all the attention they'd receive from her family. Plus, 3 dogs in a Ford Escape would not allow enough room to bring my father's treasures home with me.
There's always a method to my madness.
Perry is a good car companion. His presence prevents me from feeling so alone as I traverse the miles of prairie land. It's a long drive, to spend a day and a half at my destination, only to turn around and travel back the way I had come. As in most things, I do what has to be done. There's always a method to my madness.
I finished a really good audiobook while I was driving down there, one that I highly recommend...."The Girl Who Kicked The Hornet's Nest" by the late Swedish author Stieg Larsson. It's the conclusion of a trilogy.
My trip's purpose was to select a few mementos of times long gone. Items to remind me of the man I called "Dad", pictures from his life, a few of his paintings, a selection from his music and movie collection, and an assortment of nik-naks collected during his lifetime.
Those small things that shouldn't cause a negative impact on my step-dad's life.
I can feel your eyebrows raise in question, "Step-dad...but I thought she was talking about her father?"
It is true, my dad came out of the closet several years after my parent's divorce and for the past fifteen years has spent his life with a pretty terrific guy named Rick. I'm proud to call Rick my step-dad (for want of a better word). He stood by my dad during the good times, as well as the bad. He was there to care for my dad as his health failed, and was beside my father when he drew his last breath. Rick is the one that called to ask me to come and take what I wanted.
When I was making my selections, I tried to pick out some small items for my brother and sister, too. I hate making choices for others, especially when there has been almost no relationship between my siblings and our father.
I don't know what happened between Dad and them, maybe it was his lifestyly they could not tolerate, but for now, I'll attribute it to absence. I think of the song by Cat Steven's called "Cats In The Cradle" when I consider the father that was seldom around while we were growing up. He had his own agenda and children weren't as important to him when he was a younger man. He left the raising of children to my mother.
Dad died with few regrets, but the one he voiced to me, towards the end of his life, was how much he missed family being around. I, the least favored of his children, was the only one that made an effort to call him once a week and visit a couple times a year.
I didn't consider those calls a burden, but thought of the irony. He waited for my calls, hoping for news about his other two offspring. Sometimes I was able to oblige him.
My brother and sister have not spoken to one another for probably 20 years or more. I am the go-between, but in my dreams, still wish I had been born into a tighter-knit family.
His death was sudden. I'm still filled with a mix of relief and sorrow. His quality of life was almost non-existant. Two years ago, he finally lost the use of his legs and could no longer walk. He spent his days in a chair. His eyesight and hearing were failing rapidly. All the things he had loved to do and could just a few years prior, had been stripped away. Death was a mercy, but I miss our phone conversations.
Rick and I did not spend the whole time "picking, sorting, and packing". We took time to see a movie, "Inception", a sci-fi thriller that we both thoroughly enjoyed. We agreed that it was a "Keep You On The Edge Of Your Seat" movie. Afterwards, we feasted on a lobster dinner in memory of Dad and his gourmet tastebuds.
My trip home was uneventful, but I stayed entertained by a good audiobook, "The Forgotten Garden" by Australian author, Kate Morton.
On my next few days off, I will decide on the perfect spots in my home to hang my dad's paintings.
Maybe I will think about taking an art class. The thought of putting brush to canvas to see if I inherited some of his talent intrigues me.
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