Dear Dad,
It has been six years today. It just so happens that I was in Frisco, CO yesterday. Frisco is the same town I was in the night before you died, August 17th, six years ago. It was as far as Tanya and I could drive in a single day from Pasadena. We left that morning. That was the morning I told you goodbye and kissed your cold, bald head for the last time. I can still feel your head on my cheek from that last hug, that morning, six years ago to the day, yesterday, in Frisco…
I was at Copper Mountain for a music festival called Yarmony Grass; I think you would have loved it. I guess its funny because I never had the chance to share with you the really good music Brooks and I have found these days. I’m chuckling to myself wondering what you would think about the bluegrass. I bet you would love “Railroad Earth.” Imagine you listening to “Old Man and the Land” and talking about how crazy it is that that song it basically about Pop and the farm. I bet you’d love it, as much as you could the way you love music.
Remember when you used to drive us on summer vacations and to soccer games and such? After a while letting us goof around on the radio you would turn it off all of a sudden and take a deep breath and give an exaggerated sigh of relief and say, “See, doesn’t that sound good?” with a big smile on your face.
Then again I also remember the day you drove me to take my Polytechnic School entrance exam and we listened to “I am the Eagle” by John Denver at full blast. That song was the inspiration for the essay I wrote on the test I took that day, the year I was admitted. You were the best of both worlds I guess, the Poet and the Engineer. Philosophically you seemed to be more inclined to lean from your ultra-practical root system to a romantic idealization of the power of Art and the spiritual unknowns. I sure would love to talk to you about people like David Hawkins and things like Integral Theory; I can only sort of imagine what you would say. These are the ways I miss you now Dad. Just like you said, they change as I grow older and change myself.
Mom was married in May, I am sure you know, and I am sure you are pleased, and that you are pleased that we know you are pleased. Mom was really glowing, Dad. I never thought she would be that happy again after you died. I just didn’t think it would be possible. It just goes to show that over six years it is incredible what can happen. If you’d asked me six years ago if I ever thought I’d go to Mom’s wedding and be happy about it, I would have had my doubts. But now, after all that’s happened, it is so clear that Mom deserves to have someone to grow old with, and that you are nothing but happy for her. It’s just that. It’s that I was there, at Mom’s wedding, and everyone and everything was right and good about it. Your twin was even there giving his blessing. Weird! Of course it made me think about you tremendously, but none of the thoughts had any ill feeling attached to them. All the thoughts and feelings I had came from the feeling that this day was a powerful sign of the times in my life. It was one of those check-in points in your life where you step back and get a good, long, full perspective on your self so far. It was powerful and good.
“Six years,” I thought. “It’s really been six years.” It is incredible how much Life can surprise you for the better if you can have the attitude and patience to let it. That is a lesson you taught me before you died, and have been continually teaching me ever since you did.
Well, I miss you Dad. Life for me is still alive, and powerful, and rich in ironic hidden spiritual subtext I always seem to be just on the brink of seeing in its entirety. Ha! That sentence was sort of a joke, but it’s the sort of joke I never got make with you, with all of its “ironic hidden spiritual subtext” in the full light of your gaze.
Did you ever feel like that- like this- Dad? Did you pass this part on to me, or am I just making it up, or what? I’d give a pretty penny in cosmic change if I could ever have that conversation with you. Is that conversation worth wondering about? I do hate setting myself up for disappointment, but I think I have a pretty good grip on that balancing act these days. The thin-line between setting your intentions, creating your own reality, affirming what you want in your life- and being grounded and realistic enough to face reality, True Reality, with the respect and awe it warrants during those rare moments in life when you are actually made to sit down directly in front of and made to gaze directly into “It.” Life and Death moments. You know what I am talking about.
I love you Dad. I have been learning many lessons about Love I would love to share with you sometime too, but that’s a whole other deal. I want you to know that everything is well and good and getting better for everybody here. Brooks is married and in love and seems to be growing and integrating and expanding consistently, practically, experientially through his studies. Mom and Winn are living life and keeping each other young and creating a beautiful place to raise two brilliant ten year olds.
You would be so proud to see the way Mom has shared what she learned with you raising Brooks and me. She just has so much to give, you know? She can make such a difference in their lives. It is miraculous, the whole bit. And that’s how Winn and Mom say they look at it. It’s a miracle for both of them that they met the other one when they did. I get it. It is great. It makes me happy to see how happy Mom is. It was a long time coming, but you never left the forefront Dad. You are the trunk of the tree that made any and all of this possible. It is an incredible mosaic of love Dad. Nobody forgets you, you are still here, it is incredible.
Wherever and whatever else you are doing, thank you for still being here with me. Thank you for always answering me when I ask myself, “What would Dad do?” I don’t know how you do it, but you are always there when I ask. Thank you so much for the umbrella of love you brought me into the world under. It is the greatest gift one single human being can give to another human being because it is a timeless gift. It is something that is given and can never be taken away. It is something eternal. It teaches you the values of eternity. I love you eternally.
It has been six years today. It just so happens that I was in Frisco, CO yesterday. Frisco is the same town I was in the night before you died, August 17th, six years ago. It was as far as Tanya and I could drive in a single day from Pasadena. We left that morning. That was the morning I told you goodbye and kissed your cold, bald head for the last time. I can still feel your head on my cheek from that last hug, that morning, six years ago to the day, yesterday, in Frisco…
I was at Copper Mountain for a music festival called Yarmony Grass; I think you would have loved it. I guess its funny because I never had the chance to share with you the really good music Brooks and I have found these days. I’m chuckling to myself wondering what you would think about the bluegrass. I bet you would love “Railroad Earth.” Imagine you listening to “Old Man and the Land” and talking about how crazy it is that that song it basically about Pop and the farm. I bet you’d love it, as much as you could the way you love music.
Remember when you used to drive us on summer vacations and to soccer games and such? After a while letting us goof around on the radio you would turn it off all of a sudden and take a deep breath and give an exaggerated sigh of relief and say, “See, doesn’t that sound good?” with a big smile on your face.
Then again I also remember the day you drove me to take my Polytechnic School entrance exam and we listened to “I am the Eagle” by John Denver at full blast. That song was the inspiration for the essay I wrote on the test I took that day, the year I was admitted. You were the best of both worlds I guess, the Poet and the Engineer. Philosophically you seemed to be more inclined to lean from your ultra-practical root system to a romantic idealization of the power of Art and the spiritual unknowns. I sure would love to talk to you about people like David Hawkins and things like Integral Theory; I can only sort of imagine what you would say. These are the ways I miss you now Dad. Just like you said, they change as I grow older and change myself.
Mom was married in May, I am sure you know, and I am sure you are pleased, and that you are pleased that we know you are pleased. Mom was really glowing, Dad. I never thought she would be that happy again after you died. I just didn’t think it would be possible. It just goes to show that over six years it is incredible what can happen. If you’d asked me six years ago if I ever thought I’d go to Mom’s wedding and be happy about it, I would have had my doubts. But now, after all that’s happened, it is so clear that Mom deserves to have someone to grow old with, and that you are nothing but happy for her. It’s just that. It’s that I was there, at Mom’s wedding, and everyone and everything was right and good about it. Your twin was even there giving his blessing. Weird! Of course it made me think about you tremendously, but none of the thoughts had any ill feeling attached to them. All the thoughts and feelings I had came from the feeling that this day was a powerful sign of the times in my life. It was one of those check-in points in your life where you step back and get a good, long, full perspective on your self so far. It was powerful and good.
“Six years,” I thought. “It’s really been six years.” It is incredible how much Life can surprise you for the better if you can have the attitude and patience to let it. That is a lesson you taught me before you died, and have been continually teaching me ever since you did.
Well, I miss you Dad. Life for me is still alive, and powerful, and rich in ironic hidden spiritual subtext I always seem to be just on the brink of seeing in its entirety. Ha! That sentence was sort of a joke, but it’s the sort of joke I never got make with you, with all of its “ironic hidden spiritual subtext” in the full light of your gaze.
Did you ever feel like that- like this- Dad? Did you pass this part on to me, or am I just making it up, or what? I’d give a pretty penny in cosmic change if I could ever have that conversation with you. Is that conversation worth wondering about? I do hate setting myself up for disappointment, but I think I have a pretty good grip on that balancing act these days. The thin-line between setting your intentions, creating your own reality, affirming what you want in your life- and being grounded and realistic enough to face reality, True Reality, with the respect and awe it warrants during those rare moments in life when you are actually made to sit down directly in front of and made to gaze directly into “It.” Life and Death moments. You know what I am talking about.
I love you Dad. I have been learning many lessons about Love I would love to share with you sometime too, but that’s a whole other deal. I want you to know that everything is well and good and getting better for everybody here. Brooks is married and in love and seems to be growing and integrating and expanding consistently, practically, experientially through his studies. Mom and Winn are living life and keeping each other young and creating a beautiful place to raise two brilliant ten year olds.
You would be so proud to see the way Mom has shared what she learned with you raising Brooks and me. She just has so much to give, you know? She can make such a difference in their lives. It is miraculous, the whole bit. And that’s how Winn and Mom say they look at it. It’s a miracle for both of them that they met the other one when they did. I get it. It is great. It makes me happy to see how happy Mom is. It was a long time coming, but you never left the forefront Dad. You are the trunk of the tree that made any and all of this possible. It is an incredible mosaic of love Dad. Nobody forgets you, you are still here, it is incredible.
Wherever and whatever else you are doing, thank you for still being here with me. Thank you for always answering me when I ask myself, “What would Dad do?” I don’t know how you do it, but you are always there when I ask. Thank you so much for the umbrella of love you brought me into the world under. It is the greatest gift one single human being can give to another human being because it is a timeless gift. It is something that is given and can never be taken away. It is something eternal. It teaches you the values of eternity. I love you eternally.
Your Son,
Cole Harrison Suttle
Cole Harrison Suttle
1 comment:
"You are the trunk of the tree that made any and all of this possible." As they pass these missions these honors onto us, my hope is that we wear them as an honorble smile, a proud These Waves t-shirt, even grander than a gold medal. Life goes so far beyond "our happiness" when we see from these views, we and our "happiness" are miniscule in the grand scheme the grand picture. Miniscule and immaculate at the same time, that is God, that is US.
Three things:
1. We MUST cry. In order to heal ourselves, in order to heal Life. And if we do not cry of our own free will, life will make us cry. Im so glad you are That free.
2. In this moment, What Would Dads Loving Wisdom Advise Me Not To Do? Only so much time can be spent where life is All About Me, I feel he shined some true light on selfless love and sacrifice. What is it time Not To Do?
3. : ) He says he is here now, in some ways, more than he could've been otherwise. That is love, that is sacrifice.
Do It.
Do IT.
Do the hustle <3
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