Saturday, August 26, 2006

A good story takes time

I want to tell you a good story about my father. A story that captures part of who he is. Like War Stories on the Beach or Boats. However, those stories take time to write properly. I want to capture who Dad was and how he could make you smile. I've tried to capture his demeanor at parties in Fair and Balanced by NWT and Parlor Tricks. The Fair and Balanced post I wrote when Dad was alive.

My point is to write about my father and the pool in our backyard or to attempt to recreate him telling the story about taking off from a hospital ship takes time. I'm going to try, but I'm lost in writing the novel right now. I've written a brand new beginning (mucho gracias, Trixie!) and am now adding two other chapters to the beginning. Kathryn is now different, more real, more approachable and human in her response to Ian.

Because of the new beginning I am editing and changing the subsequent chapters. I have 17 or 18 total written. I don't know how long this writing will take me, but I will get this writing out. It also takes time.

I'm going to also try not to write too much about my grief unless it is a moment like Reality Sinks In. My daughter told my husband about that while they were at dinner on Friday evening. I had taken our youngest two home early from the pool as they were tired and needed a bed soon. Phill and Inwe swam for longer and then went on a "Daddy/Daughter date". I hadn't told Phill about what had happened, and he hadn't read my blog entry about it. Our eldest told him all about her sorrow unbidden. She needed to tell her daddy was the reason she gave.

That's why my father loved that girl so. She has such a mind. In March, when those two last saw each other, they went on a walk to the shoreline. On their return, Dad sought me out. "Sarabeth, I don't think Inwe stopped talking from the moment we left until the moment we got back here. Mmm." He shook his head in amazement. "She has such a brain. I could never get tired of hearing what's going to come out of that head." He walked off to go find my daughter.

Just thinking of how much he loved my eldest makes me smile. Just a little while ago, it would have made me cry. Now, I'm smiling. Love, no matter how brief, is good.

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