Last Saturday marked eight years since my father passed away. I always try to spend extra time with my sister around that day each year. This year was no exception, thankfully. I wish she had been able to have more time with him. She is 15 years younger than me; she needed more time, but I’m thankful she and I are so close.
As rocky as our relationship could be times…thankfully we worked through that. I do miss him. I do think of him often. I have yet to delete his email address from my online address book. I’m grateful my sister and I had the last few months with him that we did. Even though he deteriorated quickly, we had warning…we had a chance to say things to one another we had failed to. I am grateful for that priceless gift.
One sporadic thought I have of my father is his handwriting. It was beautiful. I wish I had more letters from him. He had this clear, cursive, flowing, beautiful handwriting. He had an amazing voice. He could fix anything with parts to it. He had a beard, mustache and rode a Harley as often as he could, he almost always had dirt or auto grease on his hands, he made the best spaghetti ever and grilled like a master. He was shorter than me, broad shoulders and looked mean, but was the first to help someone when needed, he could quote the bible in one breath and make you blush in the next. He was unique and lived life the way he wanted. He had a lot of experiences; had a pilot’s license, owned a boat for a few summers, motorcycles came and went along with wives. He rebuilt old cars, created some white lightening that could be used for race car fuel. Oh he raced cars…he might not have been focused on any one thing, but he was focused on living and enjoying himself and he did just that.
So of course this time of year always stirs up life thinking, concentrating on where my life is going, finding ways to grasp each day and the joy it brings since it could all end tomorrow…etc. I try to stay focused all year, but that is always difficult. Seems like the thought of death makes you stop in your tracks and focus a little more.
I drive in morning traffic five days week on my wary to work; it takes me anywhere from 15 to 25 minutes in stop and go traffic to get to work. Today, I saw this car that was behind me, then in the other lane, trying to go around the three lanes of traffic. He ended up back behind me at least four times. I started thinking that is kinda how I am in life…I have been trying to find that faster way around what I want and always end up in the same spot…in the sequence I should be in. We can’t make short cuts often. There are certain steps we have to take…we have to experience to end up where we want and need to be. I can be more productive, but nothing is going to happen overnight in my writing. I’m not going to be an overnight success. I’m not going to finish a novel overnight. I can’t jump ahead several steps and expect it balance out. Stay focused and complete each step. Do what I enjoy, but don’t cut corners. Life is short…but no matter how fast I try to make something happen, life won’t extend. Life has a pace…
So, yeah… I can focus more, but can’t force time to bend or speed up or slow down. Why would I want it to?