In just one week it will be a year since my father died. A YEAR. How can time go on? And how grateful I am that it does!
I miss my father every day -- so often I read or hear or experience something that I want to share with him. But I can't -- at least not the way I did when he was alive. Here's the good news: I've found other ways to keep him in my life. I talk about him whenever I can. I even talk TO him. And you know, I can feel his presence. I can hear his voice if I really, really listen.
These days I am doing a whole lot more listening. And it feels good and right and true. Books still bring me great comfort. I find my father in them all the time. Like, DAKOTA: A SPIRITUAL GEOGRAPHY by Kathleen Norris. It was my father who introduced me to the Dakotas. When he moved to Bismarck, North Dakota, that allowed us a few adventures on those buttes and plains.
One of my favorite moments was the time we got caught in a bison stampede at Custer State Park in the Badlands of South Dakota. It was exhilarating! And how wonderful to look over and see the light shining in my father's face?
Custer State Park, 2009 |
Recently, thanks to a mention by Tricia over at The Miss Rumphius Effect, I picked up Kathleen Norris's DAKOTA. Here are some of the passages that spoke to me, and where I continue to find joy:
"Maybe
the desert wisdom of the Dakotas can teach us to love anyway, to love
what is dying, in the face of death, and not pretend that things are
other than they are. The irony and wonder of all this is that it is
the desert's grimness, its stillness and isolation, that bring us
back to love. Here we discover the paradox of the contemplative life,
that the desert of solitude can be the school where we learn to love
others."
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"Telling
a poet not to look for connections is like telling a farmer not to
look at the rain gauge after a storm."
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me & Papa, Laura Ingalls Homestead DeSmet, SD - 2009 |
"Benedict, in a section of his Rule entitled “Tools for Good Works,” asks
monks to “Day by day remind yourself that you are going to die,”
and I would suggest that this is no necessarily a morbid pursuit.
Benedict is correct in terming the awareness of death a tool. It can
be humbling when we find ourselves at odds with another person, to
remember that both of us will die one day, presumably not al one
another's hands. If, as Dr. Johnson said, the prospect of being
hanged in the morning wonderfully concentrates the mind,” recalling
our mortality can be a healthy realism in an age when we spend so
much time, energy, and money denying death.
But
maybe denying death is something people need to do. One might even
look at a medieval cathedral as an expression of that need. Those
buildings, however, were also made for celebrating life with music
and art, with the play of light and shadow on stone and colored
glass. They are beautiful in ways that modern exercise machines and
lifestyles leading to that tofu-in-the sky are not."
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"Listening
to the voice of the sky, I wonder: how do we tell our tales, how can
we hope to record them? I'd like to believe that deep in our bones the
country people of Dakota, like poets, like monks, are, as Jean
Cocteau once said of poetry, 'useless but indispensable.'”
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Perhaps joy, too, is like Jean Cocteau's poetry: "useless but indispensable." I think maybe the best things in life are exactly that. xo
Irene, while finding joy you circulate back to memories of your father and that is good. He lives with you in spirit. I believe that our beloved deceased members of our families do just that. As I await the birth of my first grandchild, I know that my mother and grandmother are beside me waiting too. Our memories are strong and there is joy as we recollect. Joy, poetry, memories - they are all indispensable. Thank you for the thoughtful post. May you continue to find joy.
ReplyDeleteWhat a wonderful book for you with so many memories of your dad. It is hard to believe it's been a whole year. It's hard to believe it's been four since my dad died. I'm just like you, though. I can sense his love. I talk to him, too. And so much joy in the memories. My dad always answered the phone with a weird combination of consonants at the beginning. Something like "hhyyellow". I love thinking about that.
ReplyDeletehe was a treasure for sure and I barely knew him... but I do know that he left his greatest traits to you... kindness, to be still so you can enjoy everything around you, books, travel, adventure... that is way you feel him, you have him in your heart love you my friend
ReplyDeleteI love the photo with you and your dad! And how special to find and read the Dakota book at this time.
ReplyDeleteI really like this part of your first quote: "The irony and wonder of all this is that it is the desert's grimness, its stillness and isolation, that bring us back to love. Here we discover the paradox of the contemplative life, that the desert of solitude can be the school where we learn to love others."
I love the contrast it presents and the openness it challenges us to. For me that is one of the secrets of joy--not to fight the place or situation I'm in, but to be present in it, to look for things to enjoy and be grateful for in it. Thanks for a thought-provoking post.
These things resonate with me: "the desert of solitude can be the school where we learn to love others." and "poetry is useless and indispensable." Such wisdom here.
ReplyDeleteI still have my father with me. I think our two dads would have really liked each other.
As alway, I love reading your Papa memories and ruminations. This next week will mark 37 years since my dad died. And I still miss him! I love that you find your father in books. I've never read anything by Kathleen Norris, even though she's been on my WTR list for a long time. Love the memory you shared of the bison stampede and the light shining in your dad's eyes.
ReplyDeleteAn interesting idea "“Day by day remind yourself that you are going to die,” - the more I embrace that idea, I believe the less afraid of the process I become.
ReplyDeleteLove your picture of "half-pint and pa" on the prairie!
What a wonderful site you have. So glad I found it by searching for a Mary Oliver poem!
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