Walk of the dead

As I do daily, I hiked in the conservation park adjacent to my house this afternoon. For most of it I was having a conversation with someone very close to me and, as we do most days, we chatted about many things small and large, laughed and joked together.

I was on the phone with her yesterday also and were speaking about children when I began to relate a short memory from my own youth in respect of my dad and from one moment to the next I couldn't speak; I choked up with emotion and went silent. She immediately said, hey, it's ok, take your time, and so I did. Eventually I got the words out and our conversation flowed away to other topics - But the thoughts of my dad lingered.

In the story I was being cheeky and a little disrespectful to my dad; I was around ten years old and now, at fifty one, just thinking about it makes me cringe because I was so disrespectful of that man I called dad - Yes, I was a kid but it shames me nonetheless.

My father was the most humble and kind man a person could ever meet; He was selfless, so generous despite him having little to give, and respectful to a fault. He was a true gentleman, polite and courteous, articulate in his speech, a great writer and communicator...I'm very proud of him and am grateful to have benefited from the many lessons he taught me over my life; Some by example and some by instruction.

Dad left us in July last year and, I'll admit, I miss him very much although it doesn't always come out like it did yesterday. I'm usually stoic and generally don't allow that sort of emotion out; Certainly not in front of people - Some close to me leaving me feeling comfortable though and that's what happened yesterday so...Yeah, I guess it happened and that's all there is. It's not the first time and won't be the last. I'm not embarrassed.

Today during my hike I was still thinking about this situation; My dad and the feelings I have and that I felt comfortable to release them like I did. I miss him at the oddest moments and over the oddest things. I can write about it now and be totally fine, but yesterday? I couldn't even relate a simple story involving him.

I'm not sure if it's strange - I'd say not though. I know my dad would have an answer but he's not here to give it and so I walked along and wondered. As I laboured up the reasonably steep incline I took note of my surroundings and realised they mirrored my thoughts; I was thinking about death, my dad's specifically; That I miss him so much.

All around me were dead things and only today did I take any real notice. Usually I'm spotting kangaroos, koalas, snakes, lizards and birds...Today? Maybe it was my mood, but it seemed the walk of the dead. I decided to take a few images which are what you can see here in this post, all from my hike today.

Dead grass, dead trees, leaves and flowers. As I began to take photos I'd look at the shapes, the textures and thought of my dad again...He was a very good artist and he would have been commenting about these things and more...The colours, possible compositions, how he would frame a painting, the way he would capture the breeze making the dead grasses sway. It made me miss him of course, but also recall how he would always find the good in things and always find beauty where others could not. Maybe I learned that from him too; I don't know, but I saw beauty in dead things today.

I wrote my dad's eulogy last July but didn't have the courage to read it at the service myself; It truth it was more that I didn't want to stumble over it but have it read clearly and with conviction which is how my dad did things.

I have never shared any of it however I will today, just a very small part as below. I have edited it slightly to remove names but otherwise is the same.

A small excerpt:

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Our father would often say:

“I have led an amazing life. I have travelled the world, married a beautiful woman and have raised five amazing children. I am happy and content.”

He said that a lot towards the end and it brings us comfort knowing he held little regret and was content the painting-of-his-life combined so many vibrant brushstrokes of his own design. It is incredible how a man who desired so little in life felt he had so much.

Is it possible to summarise a person’s life in only a few minutes and could words ever do a life of eighty-four years true justice? We do not believe so and that’s why we will honour and respect our father moving forward, carry his legacy and continue to paint a little of him into our own lives.

We will take the lessons he taught us, the passion and personality that defined our father, and teach that to those who come after us. His grandchildren will know how to paint their lives in the image of their choosing, just as their grandfather did.

Dad is gone and we are left behind to remember the kind, humble, generous, patient and passionate man he was and to design and create our own ideal lives; It is what he did and would want for all of us to do.

He painted his life with vibrant colours, amazing creativity and with passion. It is something he would wish for each of us and, whilst he is not physically here to guide us, he lives within us all and in any who knew him.

Each day is a blank canvas to be painted the way we wish it to be; If dad was here with us now he would say that, and support us in our endeavours to do so. He would tell us that life is full of twists and turns, but must be celebrated and lived to its full extent.

Our father and friend is no longer where he once was; He is now everywhere where we go, as we carry him in our hearts and memories.

I'm not a religious man and am pragmatic by nature. I've seen death and do not fear it, I am stoic and can seem stolid at times to those who don't know me...But I'm much more than that. I guess I'm the v2.0 of my dad, the same as he, through exposure to him and a lifetime of learning the lessons he taught me, but my own man as well. I kind of like that thought, being a little bit him and a lot me. It's nice to know for sure that he's still with me.

So...The walk of the dead...Yeah, it was a little like that today, my mood focused on those aspects of my surroundings...But I'm alive thanks to my dad and it was his influence that helped me see my surroundings differently today. Not as dead things, but simply the world around me. It reminded me of that passage I wrote for his eulogy.