“Fathers die. You keep on loving them in any way you can. You can’t hide him away in your heart”. Michael Ondaatje.
……………………………………………………………………………………..
My father gave me everything I have. My father gave me everything I need to acquire everything I have and will have.
He gave me my looks, my strength, my wisdom, my desire to better myself and to do more everyday.
Above all, he gave me his wonderful big eyes and told me to see… The beauty of the world, the beauty in people, the beauty of patience, the beauty of trying, the beauty of words…
I haven’t inherited his talent for drawing…
I am trying to mould this into painting with words. I stain my finger tips in jars of blue, green, red, yellow words, I put them on paper and I hope they arrange into colourful sketches of feelings.
All my promises are for him…
My strife* is for him as he taught me that it is important to know who you are… but…far more important is:
WHAT YOU DO FOR WHO YOU ARE…
…………………………………………………………………………….
*Strife = the act of striving**, earnest endeavour.
Source: Webster’s 1913 dictionary.
**Strive = to make efforts, to endeavour with earnestness.
Summer day by his favorite painter, Ivan Shishkin.
She is primarily a teacher of English. Also her mind is lured by goodies like finance, economics, interest rates, the stock market, as she has a hankering for how the money is made. Nevertheless she is a dreamer on a cloud...As dreams cost nothing... On ordinary days she is a word-weaver for everything and everything that breathes. On the best of days she just follows the seasons by means of bike, skis, or roller-skates. She is grateful to all colors of the world and to people who read, smile and drop a line here, or on her email. Contributing author for 5 Medium.com publications, Spillwords.com and Anthology Volume I: Writings from the Sudden Denouement Literary Collective.
Blog de companie 
I see you feel the same way about your father as I feel about mine.
This essay really resonates with me.
Every word you wrote I could write about him.
I haven’t inherited his talent for drawing either.
I don’t know about painting.
An art teacher once told me that drawing and painting are actually different.
But my dad could draw.
And he could also paint wonderfully beautiful pictures.
My dad also taught me History and the importance of learning which I still have today.
And like you, I try to paint the world through my words.
A promise I made for him.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thank you very much for your beautiful words! Our fathers were wonderful insightful people. Still are. Everything I do is for my father. He always said to me, “everybody can be smart, but not everybody is wise. So, above all, be wise.” At that period of time I didn’t understand what he meant… I know how you feel around the day, his birthday in heaven… In the first years after his passing I was just angry, now I celebrate him in any way and live up to his inheritance…You are a very talented writer, Christopher, you have created your own mythology.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thank you Julia.
This coming Friday June 16th will be the 7th Anniversary of his death.
And like you, I was angry the first few years after his death.
I remember between his sudden collapse to the floor on May 18th 2010 and his dying in hospital on June 16th 2010, every day I went to see him in hospital, he’d ask me, “Are you continuing to write your blog?”. And I’d answer, “Yes but I’ve stopped writing my novel. I’m writing about my experiences and the way I feel with you being in hospital.”
Which was rare for me. I rarely write anything personal. Only when something really traumatic happens and I feel the need to share my anguish do I write anything personal.
My dad nodded.
He understood.
“I hope,” he said, “when this passes, you’ll promise me to go back to writing your novel. What I’ve read from it, I think it’s very important you keep writing and finish it. Very important to the world. Promise me when this passes, you’ll go back to writing your novel.”
And of course I made that promise.
At the time when he said, “When this passes”, I thought he meant when he got better.
But of course that didn’t happen.
And of course I’ve kept my promise.
I’m now about half-way through my 5th vampire novel (with many of the same characters running throughout the series).
So I’m going full steam ahead in keeping my promise.
And in my spirit, I often still feel my dad’s presence and encouragement while I’m writing.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thank you for sharing these, dear Cristopher.
That period after was like living in another life, on the edge of a darkest dream.
When he was very ill (kidney failure, but his heart failed him in the end), besides talking and laughing, as he was always very positive, he also made jokes about my appearance, as ever (lemur-like appearance 🙂 because of my big eyes). I did not know if he knew about the seriousness of his illness, but his sense of humour was unspoilt.
Congratulations for your wonderful work!
And we are the luckiest to have had such fathers…
LikeLiked by 1 person
Our fathers move through our souls continuously. They are the strong imprint upon us. Seen inward and outward.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Your words are true and touching. Thank you very much!
LikeLiked by 1 person