For the moon never glows without bringing me dreams of my father.
His spirit passes by me like a warm wind blowing softly.
The aroma, at first so strong, disappears into the shadows, but still lives within the sense it quickens.
My soul surrenders.
He takes my hand and guides me from the turbulent, airy storm of life into the calmness of the deep ocean blue.
While the wind weeps its sorrow into the night,
The moon illuminates the story unfolding.
It is quiet and still down in the darkness,
But the peaceful inner beauty resonates around us.
The water envelops me like the comfort of his hugs.
Sensitivity and emotion seeps from every fiber of our beings.
There is no suffering and there is no pain.
And music, it vibrates in the memory, the sound specific to each and every occasion.
He smiles, tells me he loves me and then he is gone.
For a moment, it is real.
I sat for a long time searching for words that would best serve my father’s memory and I kept coming back to one word, ‘Ocean’. My father was like an ocean. He loved to be on it, he loved to be in it and loved to be near it. The ocean reflected his multi-faceted and complex personality, unpredictable and uncontrollable, yet smooth and enticing.
The surface represented his strength, his will to live and his courage to fight. The surface also represented his difficult and commanding nature. There were times when his words, like a jellyfish, could sting you to the core. Like the biggest shark in the ocean, he always thought that he knew best. No matter how much I argued, he always won.
The world inside the ocean, the place you drift to once you surrender and let go…once you let go of the control and harshness of the surface is free and weightless. The world inside the ocean, when you become free, is commensurate with floating into the sweetness of life’s inner beauty. There is nothing to prove and nothing to conceal. The inner ocean is a place where sensitivity seeps from your soul. This is the part I loved most about my father.
I never realized how much comfort he provided until he no longer existed. His love could cure any hurt, any sadness and any disappointment. My father affected everyone who ever knew him. The most difficult man who possessed the most enormous and generous heart. He knew how to make people laugh and he knew how to make them cry.
For most of my life, I revered my father as some sort of God. Someone who would never steer me wrong and for the most part he didn’t. But I did learn that he wasn’t a God. He was just a man, a man full of flaws and weakness. A man who commanded respect at all times, yet softened on so many levels in the last few years of his life and who showed me more love than I had ever seen in my entire lifetime.
My father was like the ocean. He had the spirit of a tidal wave, a thirst for love and life, fueled by the saltiest waters and a beautiful soul to match the bluest waters.