I loved my dad. He was a good father. I always always felt loved.
I am desperately sad that he has left this world. Ever practical, he requested no funeral. He was cremated. He also didn't want his ashes interred anywhere. "It's too expensive. Flush 'em for all I care." With no funeral to go to, no arrangements to coordinate, I was left adrift with my grief. For a while, the sadness threatened to overwhelm me. In the end it just made me short tempered. I apologised to the family members living at home for my irritability. I have all this grief and I don't know how to make it not suck so much.
|Dad on his last visit to me|
He taught me how to fish and how to tie a fly for fly fishing. He showed me how to read a river and identify spots where trout were likely to be hanging out. If we caught a fish, he would slice it open to see what the fish had been eating.
If the fish weren't biting, we entertained ourselves in other ways. We scooped the beds of rivers and he showed me the little stick and pebble houses that caddis fly larvae made for themselves. We caught little sticklebacks. I remember bringing one home with me and keeping it in an aquarium for a bit. He taught me how to catch crawdads. I got really good at that. It turns out that if you come home with a bucket full of crawdads you will not have the hero's welcome you think you'll have.
Of course there were a few times when our relationship was tested, but I think that happens in many relationships.
|The last photo of us together.|
I am enormously grateful that I had you as my dad. Most of the time the gratitude wins out over the grief I feel.