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A Legacy

It’s been months since I’ve posted a blog…

Lately I’ve been thinking about legacies. This might be because I heard a great deal about political legacies during the latest civic election. Or maybe it’s because I’ve been reading Harry Leslie Smith’s twitter feed. Harry’s son wrote about his father’s last days and is now carrying on with Harry’s message.

Most likely I’m thinking about legacies because Dec. 6, 2018 was ten years since my Dad passed away.

Dr. Art Barker’s legacy inspires me and I’ve been wondering what inspired him.

Who inspires you? What inspires you?  Are you inspired? I’ve come to believe it’s so much easier to go through life when you’re following a worthwhile legacy.

I had planned to go for a walk to mark the anniversary of Dad’s passing. To be alone with my thoughts and take some time out of this busy life to settle my heart. I had done my traditional Salvation Army Santa Shuffle and dedicated the race and donation to him. Thursday night, the exact time of his passing, I would be silent. It’s been one hell of a year and I wanted the time to contemplate my next step.

Then I heard Dad’s voice. His message was loud and clear. “Step up, you’ve got a job to do.”

So instead of a walk I attended the Vancouver Park Board meeting at the Killarney Seniors Centre to meet with the Presidents of all the local Community Centres. It was a good evening with valuable conversations about the future and where we wanted to go.

I know it’s what Dad would have expected from me.

Maybe more important, I realize it’s what I expect from me.

And that might be the legacy.

Dad’s life wasn’t perfect. He made lots of mistakes. But at his core he was a kind man and cared about the patients. I watched him pay special attention to the seniors around him. I know he was their advocate. I watched him make them smile.

The last time I saw Dad I made him smile… maybe he was passing the torch.

A worthwhile legacy we could all follow.

Return to Scotland

Ten years ago I made the decision to walk Scotland’s West Highland Way and Great Glen Way to celebrate my 50th birthday. The half-century celebration was a 297km solo trek through the Highlands. Starting near Glasgow, and ending in Inverness.

overlooking Loch Lomond

The walk took 13 days, then I headed to Aberdeen to meet some very distant relatives. It was a first for me… actual blood relations! A joy few adopted people get to experience.

distant distant distant relatives

My goal in going to Scotland was to dig deeper into my roots. To go and find out more about who I am.

Luckily all that happened and my 50th was a complete success.

This year I turn sixty and plan to once more make the journey.

Even now I still think back to the day before I left Vancouver.

Dad was slipping fast. His mind was faltering. He knew I had opened my adoption papers, had found my birth family and was heading to Scotland to discover more. He wanted to help. He promised to pay for my flight. It’s one of the main reasons I was able to go.

Two things happened on the last day I saw him before I left. Actually three things happened.

I showed him my itinerary and the messages from some of the Third family clan in Aberdeen. I talked to him about my plans and the excitement.

As I talked about meeting these people he got teary eyed and said, “Remember you will always be my daughter. I will always be your father.” Up until that point I hadn’t realized the distraught this trip could carry for him. I told him he was my Dad and that would never change. I hope he believed me.

Then I showed him the bill for the flight and reminded him in the gentlest way of his promise to pay for it. He said of course, and went to his den. I waited. He came back and said his wife wouldn’t give him the money. He handed me his wallet and said I should take all the money inside to help pay for the trip. I opened it and found 23 cents. My heart broke.

I told him I’d already paid for the flight and he needed to keep his money to buy some coffee. Dad laughed, he loved cups of coffee. I lie very well.

As I left his home I told his wife what happened. She offered nothing.

I headed back to work and my last client before the trip.  He was a kind man with a very successful business in West Vancouver. His father had recently passed. We were pretty sure our Dad’s knew each other from years ago. There was a connection.

I told him what had happened. I was relying on Dad’s help and that had now disappeared. I cried. He seemed to understand. He was a very kind man.

As we finished the session, I was packing up my gear and he disappeared into the other room. He came out and handed me a cheque for the full amount of the airfare. He said my Dad wanted me to have financial help with the trip and he was in a position to make it happen.

I cried again. He hugged me and told me to have the best birthday celebration.

I did. And I never forgot how I got there.

 

 

Talking About Rebus

When I finished Ian Rankin’s latest Rebus novel, Rather Be The Devil, all I wanted to do was chat with my Dad.  The book ends with a twist I know he would have loved.

Funny how our minds work…  I had completely forgotten about the endless lunches Dad and I spent talking about our mutual friend, John Rebus. We both loved Ian’s books. It gave us a connection and the shared reminiscing was a gift.

Dad would have loved this one!

Then I got to thinking about how books can do that. How stories can bring people together. How they can be the basis for your tribe.

There’s nothing like being with people that enjoy the same books you love!

I met with many members of the Outlander fan club at the Surrey International Writers’ Conference this past October. Now there’s a tribe that has fun! (Maybe that has something to do with the book’s central character being a handsome Scotsman in a kilt!) It was a great reminder how books can be the focus for a gathering.

Reading is usually a solitary act. It’s almost meditative. Your mind can be transformed to a one-pointed focus. A great story can take over your whole world. For that stretch of time you are transfixed.

To finish a book and be able to share the journey with someone else is magical.

Just look around at how many people belong to book clubs.

A shared love of a book can be a touchstone.

When Dad died I went back and re-read all the Rebus books. I was reminded of the genius of Ian Rankin and how he’s created a man Dad and I both loved so dearly. It was a way to connect with Dad even though he was gone. It was a way to mourn the loss and rejoice in our time together.

What a gift Ian gave us.

As I read the last page of this latest book I would have given anything to know what Dad would have thought.

Thank you Ian.