Wednesday, January 20, 2016

Memories like Rainbow Fish Scales



We have made it a month. Thirty-one days without dad here with us. He was buried. He was remembered at my brother's wedding. And then, last Friday, we celebrated him with three hundred people who loved him so. I had the chance to share some words and, while they don't all belong here, I've continued to think on a single sentence.
I know he wanted a million things for each of us -his dreams were almost as vibrant as the crowd here now.
I said those words to a crowd gathered because of him. I said them with meaning and conviction. I said them because I know them to be true. But today, as I look over the full to the brim picture of his celebration of life, I wonder what they mean to me, for me, about me.

He left a mark on the lives of three hundred people -plus more- with his people-loving, dream-chasing heart. He tattooed a forever in our souls with the way he ceaselessly pursued his people. And so, we miss him deeply, but we know that -like Rainbow Fish sharing his metallic scales- he's left a small piece of himself within our hearts.

And so, I find myself wondering what piece he'd have set apart for me. I know he wouldn't worry about my humor or wit -those I have in abundance-, he'd say I've got plenty of dreams and ambition to boost. The scale would be gold and scarlet with its abundance of bravery. He'd leave me with a message of sureness, a vote of confidence, reminding me to pursue those vibrant hopes with a hair of pure madness.

He'd leave me the sentence I spoke out of my very own mouth. He'd say he wants a million things for me, that his wishes for me are as vibrant as my art. He'd tell me to leave behind the thinking and to head out on a quest for the people who make every ounce of my work and my living feel like a dream.

Not only would he gift these words to me, but he'd say them to you too. He'd charge you with a double dog dare to go and do the things that make your heart sing. He'd make sure you're doing those dreamy things with people you love. And then, he'd pat you on the back and say "well done." 

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In celebration of the man that he was and the artist I want to be, I've started putting together (free) wallpapers for your phone. I'm hoping to share a new download for you once a week in an effort to push my creativity further. So, here's a peak at your freebie for this week:
Download it HERE

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