Upsy-Daisy

laid to rest 80,000 obstructing spirits (north)600ppi
Laid To Rest 80,000 Obstructing Spirits (North)

There’s something my Dad would say to me when I was very young and I had fallen.

“Upsy-daisy.”  And then he’d pick me up.  Set me on my small feet, brush off my knees, make sure I was okay.

Dad, I’m not okay right now.  I need to hear you say to me, “Upsy-daisy.”  And pick me up and set me on my feet again.

My Dad died exactly two weeks ago.

I miss the sound of his voice the most.

I miss talking with him.  I miss sitting together, saying nothing at all, watching the cedars move in the summer wind and the clouds chase each other across the sky.  I miss finding the perfect, smooth, grey stone, and passing it to him as we walk.

There are no words for these feelings, though I make the attempt.  Trying to capture and still the king tide as it pulls and pushes.

Impossible.

I hear my Dad saying impossible has never stopped me yet.  So true.

Upsy-daisy.