Dad's Self Portrait

My father was a man of few words and he had natural talent for painting. Early in our family life, he painted a picture of an oyster shop on Solomon's Island that, to me, has a haunting quality. Later, while spending time on Midway Island during the cold war, he painted this self-portrait. I think it captures his quiet intensity. By this time he had become a Naval commander. This is the way he looked in my dream and the way I will remember him. Wasn't he handsome?

There is a man out there, who I wish would resurface. He knows who he is. We used to see each other around town fairly often. He resembles the way my father looks here and has a similar military bearing. Isn't it funny how the mind works? Although I can make the connection now, the attraction has it's own chemistry that's got nothing to do with psychology.

The Lighter Side

As we were riding to the cemetery behind the hearse, my sister Karina was crying and we were all somewhat overwhelmed by the impact of losing dad when it suddenly occurred to me that he would wholeheartedly approve of the selected vehicle. My father drove a Cadillac for as long as I can remember. Today, Karina sent me a photo that she took with a caption that captures the moment. Thanks Karina!

The Dashing Lieutenant

We buried our father today. There was a Navy honor guard in attendance and even though we opted not to have him interred at Arlington National Cemetery at the request of his second wife, I am grateful for their presence.

When I was growing up the Navy life was a very big part of our lives. Dad was XO in a couple of places, he taught military sciences at the University of Pennsylvania, flew fighter planes off aircraft carriers during the war and later super connies in the cold war.

I have inherited his Annapolis Academy class ring, which travelled with him to the Pacific theatre in WWII for three campaigns, through the 26 year marriage to my mother and all the way through until his passing on Wednesday. Dad was 91. It was odd to see him lying lifeless in the casket this afternoon.

A couple of nights ago I dreamed of him as a dashing young lieutenant, in his khakis and hat, sitting around a table with his buddies at the 'O' club. He was on top of his game - so good looking I did a double-take. Was it really him? In my dream, he didn't see me and a wave of sadness rolled over me because I knew I would never see him again. But I am glad to have seen him there in that happy state, telling one of his jokes and making everybody laugh. This is the way I will remember him.

No energy tonight to go into "other side" insights but it does seem to me that my father died as he lived. Strong, proud and with everything in order. One of the elderly gentlemen who surprised us with his attendance at the funeral and who had known me when I was a little girl and my father for decades said that he probably didn't tell us how sick he was because an officer doesn't "concern the troops." That sounds exactly right. He wouldn't have wanted us to worry.

The night before last, I had another dream in which he collapsed and died right before our eyes. I rushed across the tarmac where he was lying to see after him and said, "Dad are you okay?" and even though he was clearly gone, he opened his eyes and said,"I fine." And you know what? I believe he is - youthful once more - as handsome as he was in my dream - but he sees me now and he's smiling.

Jack's Barbecue

Things have been non-stop in Tennessee. Went to Nashville with brothers and sisters yesterday. Brought the wrong shoes and was limping along "the district" trying to keep up. Fun though. We finally stopped at Jack's Barbecue for a bite to eat and sat on the back terrace, which is just behind the original Grand Old Opry. There's a whole backstage night life that takes place in the alley. Here we all are - all the sibs anyway.

I think the stranger who took this for us may have had one too many beers or maybe just nearsighted like me! It was a greasy spoon type joint with paper towels on the tables for napkins but you can't beat it authentic atmosphere, beans and location. The barbecue was pretty good too. I think we were all more used to Texas style sauce. I can still hear the sounds of country music from "The Stage", a sawdust-on-the-floor type live music beer hall.

This is a picture of me and my brother Michael, who is wearing my dad's dog tags. After we left here, we walked to the Cumberland River and walked across the footbridge. It was an unforgettable night.


Now it's off to church and the funeral. It will be an all-day affair.

Impressions from the Other Side

My father passed away Wednesday and now I am in a suburb of Nashville with siblings and extended family for the funeral. It's beautiful here. Last night, we ate at a "Catfish Cabin" type establishment where they had a great blue grass trio and things like alligator tail and fried green tomatoes on the menu.

Before going to sleep, my sister and I were talking about death and what happens after a person passes. Some people don't believe anything happens but I am not one of that group. In fact, I have been having a series of dreams which bring comfort and insight into what is going on with my dad now that he has crossed to the other side. I have some pretty strong feelings about what is happening and see some parallels with what happened with my mother before and after she passed.

I will come back to write about these later. For now, we are in a rush to leave the hotel for a family luncheon and are making plans for a dinner that will bring all six of us "kids" together for the first time in decades. It's going to be interesting, to say the least. Lots of very rich, deep material for writers and artists.

End of Life Scenario

For the last six weeks or so my father has been fighting for his life from a hospital bed and the sad news is, he's losing the battle. Doctors now say he has only a few days or weeks to live. This is all hitting me like a ton of bricks. The whole extended family, five siblings, step mother, in-laws and non-blood relatives I've never even met are being drawn into a drama that more than rivals anything on the screen.

You would think that adults of a certain age would be mature enough to be even-tempered about such things but that is anything but the case and from everything my friends and colleagues are telling me, that is always how it works. Everyone is doing their best to handle it but feelings that have been hidden or buried for decades come flying out of the proverbial deep. They say that writers should write about what they know. I agree with that but this is too private for public viewing.

I do think the concept of "End of Life Scenario" would make a great film or TV series. It has a built-in dramatic arc and there's no shortage of conflict. Everything from wills and executor ships to grieving spouses and squabbling sibs. In my own case, as a single woman who has never been given away in marriage, it has suddenly become very clear to me that the loss of my father is far more traumatic than I could've anticipated. He is still the primary man in my life. My moral compass, my rock and my protector. When he is gone, there will be a great void.

Maybe this too has a sunny side. Maybe it will make me more willing to accept a husband. I have been a pretty tough customer when it comes to letting a man into the role of partner. Several good men have tried and failed. My father is a shining knight in many ways and I am glad I've had the opportunity to tell him how hard he has made it on any suitor to match his example. But he's also just a man, with human foibles, and that is something that his impending loss brings home as well.

In any case, I thought I'd offer it up, in case some of you are looking for an idea to write about. This is a hot one.