Papa Honey, my father is one hundred and four years old today. His physical body passed decades ago, yet the fullness of his legacy lives because I remember him. The storytelling gene was planted in me, and my brother, thanks to him. His sense of humor was legendary as were his demons fueled by alcohol. Wheww ... to be able and willing to keep at the deep work involved in making peace and accepting both my humanity as well as the dragons, demons and multiplicities ... through heART. What a blessing. I give thanks that I can say, "Daddy, I have found the fullness of you because I am alive today at seventy-two, against all odds." Took me long enough to discover the ways to understand, detach, reconnect, forgive and turn your rocky legacy of naming and nicknaming into an art -- with practice. Dad, I think you would have loved this character Cordelia Camilia. Hover over the flower for a few thoughts.
Cordelia Camilia was partial to purple Dead set against cold When push comes to shout The old gal held her own. A Blog written for the joy and pains of life after Seventy, and the Time Travel of Myth-making in all its complexity.