And in the end,
it is not the years in
your life that count.
It is the life in
your years.
Abraham Lincoln
He was a presence. Loud, booming voice; wise-cracking, playful personality. A kind man and an imposing man. My father. I thought him immortal. He proved to be human after all.
A life lived does not disappear. It was lived, so it exists. I like this. He lived his life big, so it still occupies a large bit of space in the continuum of time.
My father would be pleased. He had a large turnout for his final hurrah. The honor guard would have made him so proud. He spoke little of his time in the Pacific on an Aircraft Carrier, but he was proud of his service during WWII. The old gentlemen standing at attention would have brought tears to his eyes.
So we had a day of tears, memories and laughter. We went out and tipped a glass in his name. As my son said, grandpa loved a good whiskey, as long as someone else was paying. My son follows in his footsteps, as I paid for the fine whiskey he toasted his granddad with!
In my mind, my dad is rolling down the highway on his beloved Indian motorcycle, the sun shining eternally, the road smooth and clear into infinity.
15 comments:
Sandra, what a great photo and tribute. Love your last paragraph! What a beautiful vision! -Tammy
Sandra, that is a beautiful tribute. Peace.
A life well lived is what makes life worth living for those left behind willing to follow the same path.
May he have the wind at his back, as he travels on his Indian motorcycle through a different kind of highway.
And what a handsome man he was.
Farewell indeed. His handsome face and slouchy stance remind me so much of the father that adopted me as a child. He died when I was sixteen, doing something he loved, piloting his little plane. So, saying goodbye has been a process for me for many years. I'm guessing it will be for you as well. You're in my thoughts Sandra. Blessings.
*hug* sorry to hear of your great loss... and great he was indeed. even though i never met him, i know he would be proud of this beautiful post. take care...
p.s. i have returned to the blogger world.
-kacie
condolences to you!! it sounds like he had a long and good life. and if he liked a nice islay, more power to him.
thinking of you!!
xox,
/j
Saying goodbye is hard & takes time. Even knowing my dad was dead didn't stop me *seeing* him in the most unlikely places for months afterwards. Even now, though it is rarer. He too had an Indian bike, served in the Pacific & lived life big. The rawness will ease; the grief will never go. Peace, my friend. ♥♥♥
What a handsome man. Your tribute to him is beautiful Sandra.
Sandra, that was a beautiful tribute to your Dad. Cheers to his life!
I want to thank you all for your kind, gentle words. My father would be beaming with pride.
That was a hard read for me...(teary-eyed). May your family feel peace at this time. You've done him proud.
I've missed you.
Thank you Britwife. It is an odd feeling to have a parent die, even when that parent is old and sick.
It IS an odd feeling to lose a parent to death. Your words touched me. I appreciated the picture with which to associate your written memories. My thoughts have been with you and your family.
What a lovely tribute to your father. Grief is difficult and it attaches itself to us all in different ways. I've been through this with the loss of my mother and then my younger sister two years later (and she only 39).
What helps us through is love of one another and support and time...time that old "cliche" which isn't one at all. It is what helps us move forward.
Spring is making itself known, a renewal and a return. As you said in the post after this, perhaps that will help your mother and there is something in that. While her grief is fresh, each season brings us something new within ourselves as well.
Sending you all positive, loving thoughts.
Losing a parent is like losing your image in a mirror. Very strange. Losing a sister at such a young age would be a whole different pain.
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