Selectively Juggling

I’ve moved to a place in my grieving journey where I’m able to lovingly gaze and reflect upon photos of my father. Dad passed away 5 years ago, and I was incredibly honoured to be the one to hold him as he transitioned from this life. Memories of my dad’s incredible intelligence, humour, wit, social conscience, sarcasm and fierce love and loyalty now elicit a tear of pride and joy. Joy and gratitude for having been blessed to call him Dad. I’m comfortable for my vulnerability and willingly lean into that awkward space. Joy for knowing that although his life was plagued with incredible heartache and trauma, it was also graced with incredible love and belonging. I’d choose him time and time again, if given the opportunity. For now, I’m committed to holding space for dad’s memory, and taking comfort that he’s part of my moral compass. He was a fun, light-hearted, fiercely private, yet an intensely sensitive man, who championed life, love, loyalty and family. And he was a damn good cook who never let life drag or keep him down. He was and will always remain‘Captain Tenacious’, brave, bold and authentic.