We were married in Glasgow 20 years ago today.
We were planning on returning there this year to renew our vows in front of our lovely daughters.
I will be forever grateful for the 30 years we did have together.
Tuesday, June 12, 2012
Tuesday, May 1, 2012
Monday, February 6, 2012
Time Stands Still
Two years certainly seems like long time...but in losing my father and best friend, it has felt like time stands still on that snowy February day. He truly shaped the person I am today in so many ways. An appreciation of the subtle, complex, absurd, or joyous things in life is now a part of me taken directly from him. I think his influence reached so many more people than I ever realized. I wish wish wish...that the day of his memorial when I got up to say a few words, that I had snapped a picture of the sea of people there to celebrate Dennis. That image in my mind's eye consoles me at times; to know how loved he was as a mentor, friend, husband and father.
~Steffen
Two Years
Dennis admired Wallace Stevens' writings, particularly the poem "Thirteen Ways of Looking at a Blackbird." Being an avid collector, Dennis had in his library multiple used copies of the book that contained this poem. Each book contains hand written notes and interpretations left by the previous owners, something I believe Dennis enjoyed as much as the actual poem.
Dennis continues to inspire me, urging me to enter each day with a generous heart and an appreciation and wonderment of the many interpretations of this very mysterious life. I will be forever grateful for his presence.
Dennis continues to inspire me, urging me to enter each day with a generous heart and an appreciation and wonderment of the many interpretations of this very mysterious life. I will be forever grateful for his presence.
Sunday, May 1, 2011
May Day Birthday
When I get older losing my hair,
Many years from now,
Will you still be sending me a valentine
Birthday greetings bottle of wine?
If I'd been out till quarter to three
Would you lock the door,
Will you still need me, will you still feed me,
When I'm sixty-four?
You'll be older too,
And if you say the word,
I could stay with you.
I could be handy mending a fuse
When your lights have gone.
You can knit a sweater by the fireside
Sunday mornings go for a ride.
Doing the garden, digging the weeds,
Who could ask for more?
Will you still need me, will you still feed me,
When I'm sixty-four?
Dennis always looked forward to this age,
practicing this song on the guitar
so he could sing it on this birthday
as a real sixty-four year old.
Happy Birthday Dennis.
Many years from now,
Will you still be sending me a valentine
Birthday greetings bottle of wine?
If I'd been out till quarter to three
Would you lock the door,
Will you still need me, will you still feed me,
When I'm sixty-four?
You'll be older too,
And if you say the word,
I could stay with you.
I could be handy mending a fuse
When your lights have gone.
You can knit a sweater by the fireside
Sunday mornings go for a ride.
Doing the garden, digging the weeds,
Who could ask for more?
Will you still need me, will you still feed me,
When I'm sixty-four?
Dennis always looked forward to this age,
practicing this song on the guitar
so he could sing it on this birthday
as a real sixty-four year old.
Happy Birthday Dennis.
Sunday, February 6, 2011
From Jessica
It is one year later and dad is still with me. He has not faded into ghostly memories or a fuzzy outline of a person that used to live here. I can hear myself using his words and phrases in converstation and I can see myself using his mark making in my own work and I can feel myself using his love. Since the last time I saw dad a mess of events has happened; I made it to senior year, turned 18, got his painting tattooed on me, got into college; We got kittens, we redid the house, somehow we made it work as three girls living together. Even though all of these markers further seperate me from the last time I saw my father and that space will only continue to grow, he's still here.
A note from Tasha
On a day as significant as the anniversary of his death, it is hard not to recall memories of my dad.
In particular, I remember performing the daunting task of washing the dishes-alone, I might add. Generously, dad helped out by drying whilst I washed. We listened to the radio and joked around, which made the chore aspect less noticeable. As we finished up, he said to me,
"You know, when you are older, it is moments like these that you are going to remember. I wish I had more chances to do the dishes with my dad."
Of course, being a kid whose only current thoughts were comparing the task of dish washing to child labor, I brushed it off with something akin to "Uh-huh. Sure."
Today especially, it is hard to ignore that statement, and impossible to deny that there is nothing I want more than to do the dishes with him again. Today on his anniversary, I think it crucial that we all appreciate all the little things we get to do with our loved ones today.
In particular, I remember performing the daunting task of washing the dishes-alone, I might add. Generously, dad helped out by drying whilst I washed. We listened to the radio and joked around, which made the chore aspect less noticeable. As we finished up, he said to me,
"You know, when you are older, it is moments like these that you are going to remember. I wish I had more chances to do the dishes with my dad."
Of course, being a kid whose only current thoughts were comparing the task of dish washing to child labor, I brushed it off with something akin to "Uh-huh. Sure."
Today especially, it is hard to ignore that statement, and impossible to deny that there is nothing I want more than to do the dishes with him again. Today on his anniversary, I think it crucial that we all appreciate all the little things we get to do with our loved ones today.
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