From The House of Edward

Red Flowers

My father never read to me as a child. I was reading pretty much on my own at a very early age. Instead, he told me stories. Some were his own versions of classic tales, often made a bit scarier, or funnier, by his personal renditions. I particularly liked the scary ones such as the big-big monster that lived way-way out in the ocean. I would stand, with my little feet dug into warm sand and stare and stare, as far out as I could, holding tightly to his big hand, deliciously scared but truly doubtful about any imminent danger to either of us. Santa Claus, The Easter Bunny, The Headless Horseman... all these famous folks benefited greatly from Daddy’s embellishments to their biographies. He was sweet, and he was funny, calm, steady and incredibly stubborn. He had a great laugh, red flowers were his favorites, and he always told me he loved me any and every chance he got. He adored dogs and actually cried when he met Edward for the first time. I think he couldn’t bear the thought of big sweet Edward ever having been out on the streets by himself.

I have had long hair most of my life. The only time I ever had it cut short was when I was little and my Mother and I had gone on a train trip to visit relatives. This was not an unusual thing for us. Daddy would stay in the city and meet us at the train station at the end of the week. Our favorite game was to watch for each other as the train pulled into the station. I would press my nose against the train window, looking intently at the blur of people lined up outside, while he would be watching all the faces in the train cars roll past. When we spotted each other we would wave like crazy. Except that one time my hair was short. Daddy didn’t recognize me. It doesn’t take a psychoanalyst to decipher why I have worn my hair long ever since, now does it?

Daddy slipped away a year ago today. Even though his illness was relatively brief, losing him wasn’t nearly as difficult as seeing him sick. I was an only child, and a Daddy’s girl to boot. So, watching him go was difficult to say the least. Today as I was placing red flowers on his grave I thought of this song I heard for the first time a couple of weeks ago. It is by Emmylou Harris, off her new album entitled All I Intended To Be. The song describes so sublimely the way I have felt about my father’s death. Here are the lyrics, but one should really hear Emmylou sing it to feel the truth living inside the words.

When I Go Sailing Round The Moon
by Emmylou Harris, Kate and Anna McGarrigle

One last gaze upon the sun
Bid farewell to everyone
Kicked that bucket out the door
Where I'm goin I won't need it anymore
Gonna lay my burden down
Take a birdseye look around
From the tall pines of Carolina
All the way to the Wall of China

So I go sailing round the room
Through my window, cross the silver moon
No flesh and bone to hold me
I'll finally set my soul free
When I go sailing round the room

Life may be just but a dream
Rode my boat on down the stream
To wake up on a different shore
Wind up as something I aint never been before
I could be a drop of summer rain
Fallin down on an Oklahoma plain
Gonna leave the world behind me
Look around and you will find me

So I go sailing round the room
Through my window, cross the silver moon
No flesh and bone to hold me
I'll finally set my soul free
When I go sailing round the room

I....will....be
In the smoke from Mauna Loa
Morning mist on the Shenandoah

I.....will be.....
Grain of sand in the Kalahari
Magnolia by the Mississippi

I.....will be.....
Bird song when the day is breaking
Words of love when your heart is aching

Blue bonnet by the highway
I'll be everywhere and always

When I go sailing round the room
Through my window, cross the silver moon
No flesh and bone to hold me
I'll finally set my soul free
When I go sailing round the room

First photo: Daddy and Me with my one and only short hairstyle.
Second Photo: Daddy and Me later after my one and only turn as the neighborhood Easter Bunny.