This Is A Tribute

Photo taken by my beloved Hansel in Prescott, AZ. He so very rocks.
When I was little my Dad would read to me from the book of Nostradamus before I went to sleep. He was the first person to teach me how to draw in perspective and how to do Yoga in the morning. And he would take us to the park almost every other weekend when he picked us up–and we had to walk very softly–very quietly–so no-one would hear us. (Obviously some residue from being in Vietnam.)
Now, you have to understand, I barely knew my Dad. Around age 8 or 9 he got remarried and that was the end of that.
But those are the things I remember about him. Except honestly, his energy has lived with me through out my entire life. I’ve had to battle it–falsely befriend it–and now, I believe I’ve learned to dance with it. To wrap my arm around the small of it’s back and waltz.
His energy no longer haunts me–hooray!
Or keeps me up late at night–haha!.
His energy no longer controls my relationships or dictates my decisions by tricking me to think the past will repeat itself in others.
Truth is, sometimes, we forget that our parents are human.
Sure–that is an easy thing to say–especially when they are actually in our lives–and their “humanness” appears in the things we dislike or might have hurt us.
But it’s a different story when they leave you–fail tragically to be what is expected of a parent–give you a load of emotional hardship and pain to play with. It’s difficult to cough it up to that our parents are only human.
Though I have lived with a father who has been present the majority of my life only as memory and energy. Sooner or later one arrives at a point where you need to release what no longer serves you, and honor the simple humanity of a being, whose pure absence has helped form and deliver you this one Creative Juicy, BIG, Beautiful Life.
Happy Father’s Day, Dad. From the deepest seat of my heart, I am grateful for all the decisions that you made, and for the courage you have prompted in me to finally let you go completely.
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