In thirteen days, Dad will have been gone ten years. One decade ago I received that early morning phone call from Mom. I drove the two miles to their West Linn apartment where they had relocated two years prior after residing much of their life in Portland. Later that summer I would thank a Tualatin Valley Fire & Rescue response team for awaiting my arrival. To forewarn me, in case Mom was too shocked to repeat details. That although I should hope and pray, it was unlikely Dad would survive the medical event that kept his heart from beating for nearly eight minutes. I was grateful to have both warning and time to reach three of my brothers, all living out of state, so they too could get to the hospital in time for our final moments. To deliver a message by voicemail to my fourth brother in flight to a faraway continent, and connect by phone with our youngest daughter working in Costa Rica. And yes, I joined my three brothers, our oldest daughter and Dad’s Love of Life to share stories and tears, before taking him off oxygen. A chaplain recited The Lord’s Prayer, Dad’s favorite and my siblings and my childhood nightly recitation. Not long after, a compassionate nurse offered me the jade ring I have worn since.

In those moments I had no idea what the next decade would hold. The grief, sadness, appreciation and acceptance. My beautiful, sometimes sad and challenging dance with Mom until her own death seven years later. My launch into mid-life, career changes and grandmother-hood. And my writing. Yes, the writing.

My Music Man trickled in first as remarks I crafted for Dad’s September 2014 memorial service, aboard the Oregon Maritime Museum (watch him narrate a Steamer Portland OMM tour beginning at one minute). Looking back, I’m reminded most about the kindness we received. The Maritime Museum Board who agreed – of course, the boat was the perfect space to honor this guy. Dad’s Port of Portland friends – yes, we’ll help secure the lot across the street for parking. Our friend who filmed the event. Friends and family sharing stories. My Music Man launched out of the scribbled notes I shared during Dad’s celebration of life, including oft repeated teases about “playing hard ball” and being so good at “handing out sack lunches” to dwarves on stage. And for the first time in my life my heart’s murmurings were no longer hidden within a stack of penned journals.

TWO MONTHS AFTER Dad’s death and just a few weeks after his memorial service on the steamer Portland, Russ and I caught an airplane for a long-before planned trip to Ireland. It had been so hard for me to get excited for this trip after Dad died—even though visiting Ireland had been on my bucket list for a long time. A week before leaving I baked chocolate chip cookies for our good friend Kelly to thank him for filming Dad’s service. I felt so much responsibility to stick around for Mom in Dad’s absence.

As I mixed eggs and assorted ingredients, I kept asking myself how I could possibly leave on vacation. Suddenly—alone in the kitchen—I began crying. I felt Dad say to me, “Deeder, your mother will be fine. You have done so much. You need to go.” I laughed and cried—of course! I hadn’t been able to figure out why I hadn’t yet dreamed about Dad, but certainly, I should have known! Chocolate chip cookies would bring Dad back to me! (We always teased Dad that he was a lot like our dog, Oscar, when food was involved.) I felt comforted that the trip would work out okay.

On the plane I began writing. I started with the notes I had shared during the memorial service, and continued to add in everything I could remember about my years with Dad. I didn’t want to forget anything. And soon in Ireland, in the small town of Dingle near crashing, rocky coastlines, I felt Dad.
My Music Man (2017): The Writing of This Book

It was natural, at first, for me to begin my blog the same month in 2016 as I signed my contract for My Music Man with Bedazzled ink Publishing. Yes, it was a way to improve my writing, publicly share my soul, and maybe even gain a few followers. I did not imagine ten years later to be about to post my 292nd blog and have five books to my name. It is because of our family’s early Oregon roots that I initially felt I might have my first book: my grief and relationship with Dad didn’t seem enough to me to carry a book without past generational stories. Yet, as I walked through my fifties, my comfort in sharing more personal experiences morphed. So much about loss and grief as related to aging, illness and career roadblocks. Somehow that teased me to imagine writing fiction, something I hadn’t done since college. And in this discovery, I uncovered my most treasured and pronounced writing theme: that of human connection and kindness. It is today moments of human kindness and connection most present in me. And I believe more than ever I am quick to identify how it is: as we slow and invite connection with another, even if merely in passing, we discover the serendipity and beauty in human connection.

This past week it was appropriate to spend time at Illahee, our decades long special spot on the Long Beach Peninsula. The same spot Dad liked to tell us how he slept in the attic with the squirrels when first inviting his college girl-friend (Mom) to visit with his parents. A cabin sketched by our grandmother now housing five generations of family, a peninsula initially visited by two earlier generations, back to our great greats. And now, where both our parents’ ashes lie.

What now? I used to say I suspected I was more relaxed and spontaneous in writing with a full-time job. After all, I put less pressure on myself with fewer allowable minutes. During this past month as I have moved from decades of full-time work to smaller freelance projects, I wonder what else might happen? At the same time, friends have asked me following recent publishing of From First Breath….what next? Yes, I still have events ahead with this latest memoir. And like most other authors, yeah – I have that one I started awhile ago. The work I lost momentum with as I took on From First Breath. I’ve been thinking about recording my two memoirs as audio books. Might I continue blogging as the inspiration strikes? Tagging along with those creative pursuits hop on other thoughts, fears and worries. Global, political, environmental… I started listing them and thought better; most of us know what they are. And the less significant but personal ones. My aching back in the morning. Those infrequent moments forgetting a name. Alas…

I’m reminded time and still waters will take me to what’s next. What is clear is that I’ll continue to seek those moments of kindness and connection. The serendipitous feeling – who would have guessed? Who knows what path that may lead me on. Yes, I shall ponder. 

More about my work

Books

My Music Man (2017)
Beyond the Ripples (2019)
Then, Now and In-Between: Place, Memories and Loss in Oregon (2020)
Humanity’s Grace (2022)
From First Breath to Last: A Story About Love, Womanhood and Aging (2024)

Blog Categories

Writing
J.K. Gill, Chloe & William
Old Oregon
Dying
Joy and Grief
Just Because
Memories
Biking