There are so many memories of Dennis that my daughters and I talk about when we are together. We are all working our way through accepting his absence, realizing how permanent it is.
This week Esther had an assignment in a writing class, in which she produced a video to go along with a poem. She chose the poem “No Baptism” by Olivia Gatwood, which describes scenes from her childhood. Her video was a literal kaleidoscope of scenes from her childhood, focusing on her dad, Dennis. It was beautiful, a “sweet, sad, special little thing” to her, and to Julia and I as well.
Julia, in her new role of mother of an infant, has multiple opportunities to look back and review the parenting she received. It has brought a new understanding of the fathering Dennis gave her, some of it bittersweet. That’s okay. She wishes he could have had the pleasure of know his granddaughter.
For me, my criticisms of him have grown distant. My appreciation of him has solidified. In his honor, I often turn out unneeded lights and think of him as I do it.
How strange that life has gone on, and yet, what else could it do?
I mistakenly referenced a poem with the same name but different author. That has been corrected.
Hope in the Face of Dementia 