Father’s day musing

Thinking of you today daddy

Do not stand at my grave and weep,

I am not there. I do not sleep.

I am a thousand winds that blow,

I am the snow on the mountain’s rim,

I am the laughter in children’s eyes,

I am the sand at the water’s edge,

I am the sunlight on ripened grain,

I am the gentle Autumn rain,

When you awaken in the morning’s hush,

I am the swift uplifting rush of quiet birds in circled flight,

I am the star that shines at night,

Do not stand at my grave and cry,

I am not there, I did not die.

AUTHOR UNKNOWN

I called up BB’s dad today and wished him a happy fathers day. He will soon be like a father to me. We chatted a bit about our brunch arrangements and then he reminded me to make sure and call my father too.

It was a slip of the tongue, this is my 4th year now without my father. I’m doing ok, He really felt bad and said he was sorry. I’m ok with it really..

It does get easier, dealing with my father’s death.The depression turns to acceptance , I like to think he slipped past the pines and into the spirit world to join up with our ancestors. I relish in great comfort knowing that his spirit follows me wherever I go. I wore his big brown jacket on the hiking trip last week, it covered me with warmth and filled me with thoughts of him.

I have his ashes placed in a beautiful sky blue handmade wooden box, On the lid of the box is handwritten “ We are each of us angels with only one wing, and we can fly embracing each other. This box was gifted to me from an angel here on earth. When the time is right, I will take up the remainder of his ashes up to LAKE CHENAMUS-(MT ADAMS) We tried to hike up there last fathers day but we were unable to find the unmarked trail. Google is not always correct. The rangers had never heard of a trail going up to the lake. My daddy made his own trails. The last words he said to me were “When I get better, we will hike up to lake Chenamus.”

I ended up spreading 3/4 of his ashes into a raging river which swirled his ashes throughout Indian Heaven Wilderness-home of my ancestors. I will be trying to make this trip again this summer-maybe on his birthday in August. I have found the trail head–just not sure the distance. This is my father’s favorite place he even named his self “Chief Chenamus.” The huckleberries are plentiful up there from what my father told me. My ancestors used to pick the berries in their handwoven baskets long ago. I ache to find myself picking berries and swimming on my back in the cool waters of lake Chenamus, looking up into the heavens in honor of my father.