Sue King just wrote to me:
'My TESOL professor/your Abba
Dear Sara, i wanted to write you 2 or 3 days ago because all of a sudden your dad came to my mind and I was wishing he were still here to share the joy of his lil daughter's joy in motherhood. And wondering how full it would make his life. .. and how full he made the lives of those he touched with his warmth, humor, unique viewpoints, his teasing ways. I can hardly think of a thing he would take at face value - he always seemed to give it his "slant", his wry comment, to the mundane.
It was so cool the way i thought of him .. like for a second in remembering him, he seemed nearby. Please remember that Sara - that you can, in a sense, have him with you just by your love. It is the highest power between people. It would be worth a try to talk to him in the moment you are loving/laughing at your son and wanting to share that moment with your dad. So go ahead and share it and enjoy him enjoying the moment too.'
Monday, April 4, 2011
Three Years Today
It's been 3 years today since you've been gone and we all still miss you terribly. Rob shared one of your promotional videos with us on email http://premierespeakers.com/bill_gallagher/video/2621 and watching it brought tears to my eyes. I remember those years and going to some of your talks.
Nate posted that he went to tea with Alison - a tradition that he shared with me and Mike last year. Then he went to visit Nathanial Roberts grave and brought roses for you and Granny too. On facebook, Nate posted "My Great-Grandfather and namesake. A surgeon and colonel in WWII. Ran the VA Hospital until retirement. One rose for Great Papa Nat, one rose for my dear Granny Sally, and one rose for my Abba. Thank you for all your sacrifices and love."
We buried you at sea in the SF bay so instead of a grave site to visit, I look out at the water to talk to you. Yesterday, we watched the sunset from a bluff near Fort Funston and I said "hi" with my 9 month old son in my arms.
By the way Abba, you were right about the baby. One of the things you told me in our last conversation was that you I should have one right away because you really thought I would love it, and I do. He's wonderful and he has hazel green eyes like you did. When I hug him, I feel like it's not just Andrew, but that you are in there somewhere too- a part of your spirit living on in your grandchild.
A friend once explained to me that among many native traditions a person is not considered truly dead until everyone who knew him are also gone. You are still alive and well in my heart and I can still hear your voice in my head from time to time commenting and laughing. Through me and my stories of you, I hope that Andrew will feel like he knows you a little bit too. (But damn I still wish you were here in person!)
Ani ochevet otcha Abba. I will forever be your Saralala.
Nate posted that he went to tea with Alison - a tradition that he shared with me and Mike last year. Then he went to visit Nathanial Roberts grave and brought roses for you and Granny too. On facebook, Nate posted "My Great-Grandfather and namesake. A surgeon and colonel in WWII. Ran the VA Hospital until retirement. One rose for Great Papa Nat, one rose for my dear Granny Sally, and one rose for my Abba. Thank you for all your sacrifices and love."
We buried you at sea in the SF bay so instead of a grave site to visit, I look out at the water to talk to you. Yesterday, we watched the sunset from a bluff near Fort Funston and I said "hi" with my 9 month old son in my arms.
By the way Abba, you were right about the baby. One of the things you told me in our last conversation was that you I should have one right away because you really thought I would love it, and I do. He's wonderful and he has hazel green eyes like you did. When I hug him, I feel like it's not just Andrew, but that you are in there somewhere too- a part of your spirit living on in your grandchild.
A friend once explained to me that among many native traditions a person is not considered truly dead until everyone who knew him are also gone. You are still alive and well in my heart and I can still hear your voice in my head from time to time commenting and laughing. Through me and my stories of you, I hope that Andrew will feel like he knows you a little bit too. (But damn I still wish you were here in person!)
Ani ochevet otcha Abba. I will forever be your Saralala.
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