In the midst of a pandemic, we drove across the country and back - twice - to say two goodbyes to my Dad. The first was a soft farewell to his personhood, the second a final and firm farewell to his being. The road trips were fitting for this sacred journey. He and my Mom took me on Western road trips when I was very little, before my other siblings were born, from New Mexico to Utah and back. Growing up, my Dad spent more than half of his life on the road as a truck driver. Through the roads, our journeys, and my father's daily journeys, our family felt deeply tied to Western American nature. And I further feel all of these things in the little Native blood that I retain from the history of European and Native intermingling.
Saying goodbye wasn't goodbye when the open road and land awaits adventures ahead. I will open this post with the images from childhood (more to come later). The photos that follow begin with those of the sunset I captured, unbeknownst to me at the time, the evening before my Dad's passing, when I climbed up the rocky ridge overlooking Boise, Idaho. I went on that adventure alone, much as he did the next day.
Goodbye is not a goodbye when the universe, past present and future, is everywhere. We end with new faces of God from the experience.
Dad's Sunset
That road trip is your memorial and tribute to your father. Connecting with nature heals the broken heart and comforts the soul.
ReplyDeleteMay peace and love abide with you forever.
Katie