Wednesday, June 15, 2016

The Last Book

Thank you to all you wonderful folks who have reached out during this time of grieving. My father died last Wednesday, June 8, in Bismarck, ND. You can read the obituary here. I have about a zillion poems swimming in my head -- mostly I am just trying to take everything slowly and feel it all. It's hard.

One of the things I learned is that the last book Papa was reading was by Never Go Back by Lee Child. (Jack Reacher #18) His bookmark rested on pages 194/195. And he was using a bookmark I'd sent him! (Those who read this blog or who have heard me speak know that my father, for most of his life, has read, on average, a book a day. One of the things I brought home with me was his book catalog/diary. It contains all the titles he's ever read! Talk about a treasure!)

There were so many difficult moments, but there were some wonderful ones, too. Through it all, I tried to keep in mind these words from my father himself, which we had printed on the memorial service program:


“There is so much in life to be savored. But, first, it’s got to be noticed. Won’t you join me today in making a sincere personal commitment to remember to notice the blessings in life and to absolutely devour and savor each one?”
- Ken Dykes


These two poems were also part of the service:


The best part was being with family. Me and two of my siblings shared a hotel room. We convened with other loved ones in town: our stepmother and stepbrother and another brother and his girlfriend and so many fine folks who worked with or were friends with Papa during his 9 years in Bismarck, North Dakota. We shared a lot of meals and a lot of tears. Old wounds began to scab over. We laughed as we remembered the unique and precious person our father was. He gave us the greatest gift you can give another - LOVE. I'm so grateful.
after the ceremony of celebration for Papa's life

For the past several years my father and I have had a daily phone habit. Mostly I called him, and we would share about our day. I learned so much about him this way, and I felt so close to him. My emptiest moments have come when I pick up my phone and realize he's not there anymore to answer.

But he's with me. He's with all of us. This I know. And he was the biggest champion of my writing, bar none. And so I will write through this and about this and then write some more. I don't think I knew this until this moment, but all my words are somehow for him.

I'll do my best, which is all he ever asked of me.

Thank you again for being with me on this journey. It means a lot. xo




17 comments:

  1. That's really beautiful, Irene. What you've said about your Papa is just about the nicest thing that anyone can say about anybody. (You are making me wish I kept a book journal. My dad keeps one, also.) xoxo

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    1. I know, Tabatha! I don't keep a book journal, either, but what a treasure! Our dads have more than one thing in common, don't they?? xo

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  2. Words are what we have that help our sorrow, and yours today are beautiful, Irene, about your father, the family love, and good memories that will stay. I miss my conversations with my mother still, as you know you will miss yours with your father. Now, I have them with my daughter. I've been on vacation and missed your sad news last week. My sympathies to you and your family. Hugs to you each day as you journey on.

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    1. Dear Lina, thank you for these words. I have been thinking there will be another person with whom to carry on that daily phone call tradition. Your words give me hope. Thank you for sharing. xo

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  3. I loved listening to you read "The Peace of Wild Things." I love the phrases "...the presence of still water," and "the grace of the world."
    What a gift to have those daily phone chats with your dad. My deepest sympathy as you journey on without your dear Papa. Those of us who love your writing and sharing are so glad he was your biggest champion.

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    1. Thank you, Ramona, for your sweet words. It's a gorgeous poem, and I cried and cried while it was read during the memorial service. So beautiful, and he loved it, too. xo

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  4. Such wonderful memories to keep. Thinking of you often.

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    1. And I am thinking of you! Thank you, Doraine, whom I adore. xo

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  5. What a blessing to have the daily phone chats and book journal. I still treasure the days I was able to sit and talk to my dad he told me stories of when he was a boy. Life was so very different then.

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    1. Thank you, Sheila. Yes, to sit and talk with one's father... what a treasure. As are you. xo

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  6. Thank you for this beautiful post. Thinking about you.

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    1. Thank YOU, Ruth, for reading, and for being you. xo

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  7. Dear Irene, sorry to be so late to this sad news. I'm giving you a hug right now as you read this. Do you feel it? You honor your dad with your words— the ones in this post and the ones forthcoming over the days and years to come. Sending love. xo

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    1. Thank you, Michelle. It's been a tough time, and I thank you for your words. They help so much. xo

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  8. What a wonderful tribute to your father. I see the influence of his words on you, to savor and devour. I am so sorry for you loss, and I'm grateful that you have and will continue to share the bounty of your relationship with him. xo

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  9. My <3 goes out to you, Irene. Your father was a great blessing to you and others. Live in thanks for all he was to you.

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  10. Oh, Irene. I'm so sorry about Mr. Dykes' passing. Yes, you, your family and your words will continue the work he started in terms of honoring each day, being grateful for life. DYKES and LATHAM POWER!

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