Wowapi chicage means “I am writing you a letter.” The letter maybe a poem, a story, a musing, a thought or just day to day events. Sharing to inspire and connect is what I hope to achieve. Even if the words go unseen. Perhaps, somewhere, a person will stumble upon these words and find meaning, hope, joy, or just another human being who has experienced the same.
August, it happens every year.
A year ago I made a post about significant events that have happened in my life in the month of August.
My father passed away on August 27, 2023.
I am bereft. I have been in mourning. Grief is the old friend waiting by the door.
My father gave me three things that I’ve held close all my life.
The first, he gave me my name. I am an End of Horn. His name is on my birth certificate. He told me about our family and the pride he held in being a descendant of Gall.
I have upheld our name to the best of my ability. Our name is in the alumni rolls of the University of North Dakota, mine next to his, for a bachelor’s and a master’s degree. He was so proud that I attended his alma mater.
I went on to obtain a doctorate. Our name is in the alumni rolls of the University of Pennsylvania, an Ivy League institution that has stood for 283 years.
I am now pursuing another master’s degree at John Hopkins University. He loved John Hopkins. I never fully understood why. His only response was because John Hopkins knows healthcare. Maybe that was enough. Our name will live on their alumni rolls.
I have published papers. I have presented at conferences. I am an expert in my field of study. Our name is known and will live on. That’s the legacy I have given to my father.
The second, he gave me direction. My father was a typical dad. He was not part of my childhood; he did not raise me. He once told me that he knew I had good grandparents. He knew I was raised well. He never felt the need to intrude or be involved. He spoke highly of my grandparents. He respected them. As such, he left me alone because he knew I would be cared for better than what he could provide. I respected and appreciated that. I know what he did in his life. I know of his past struggles. He would’ve stepped in if he had too, and my life would’ve been much different had that occurred.
When I graduated high school, I was top of my class and won numerous scholarships, but I was also being recruited by the military as I had high testing scores. I was being offered large sign on bonuses. When I told him, he said to me, “I served so you don’t have to.” He served in the Army. He was very proud of his service. He was a combat Veteran and had shrapnel embedded.
Not once had he interfered in my childhood or told my family how to raise me. This direction was the only direction he ever gave me. So, I listened. I accepted my scholarships, and I went to school and obtained an education.
Years later, while I was in graduate school, we discussed his lack of involvement in my childhood and life. It hurt knowing he was not involved but looking back, I am grateful he knew that my mom’s family was good to me. We spoke a lot about my half-siblings and how he viewed raising children.
Lastly, he gave me his truth. He was never a dad to me. He knew it, I knew it. He acknowledged he was my father; he acknowledged his own short comings. Our relationship was never that of parent and child, father-daughter, but more like distant relatives who saw each other every so often. More often our telephone conversations felt like old friends catching up rather than a parent speaking to their child, or daughter speaking to her dad.
I knew my father as much as he allowed me. I respected him. I uphold what he has given me, my life. All that he was is gone but a part of him lives on in me. I am his daughter; I look like him. I’ve been told many, many times I act like him. That includes stubbornness, frankness and an affinity for a little paranoia now and then.
He gave me what he could, and I am grateful. Wherever he is in his journey to the spirit world. I would want him to know, I am okay. I knew of him and his life, but I never knew him. Now, I never will and that’s okay. He taught me the hardest lesson I’ve ever had to learn. Blood isn’t family. Family are the people who nurtured you, taught you, stood by you, believed in you.
I may not have had him as my dad, but I did have uncles who did what he couldn’t. As I mourn the passing of my father, I find myself thinking of my uncles, my mother’s brothers and cousins. They acted as my father figures and words cannot express how much I miss them.
I have your name and your eyes. I see you when I look in the mirror. I am my father’s daughter. Thank you, dad. I have a good family. May you continue to rest peacefully.
I bought a new sketch book.
It’s been over a decade since I last sketched. I loved to draw. I loved to write. I used to do both extensively. Then heartbreak and loss stopped every thing. I stopped everything.
Then I started playing Baldur’s Gate 3.
The need, the want to write, to draw, to make something, to create, began again.
I am a lot older. Not sure about the wiser part. Yet, it’s still part of me. The creative spark is still brilliant as ever. My skills have waned but I can bring them back. It’ll take time, practice but most of all, inspiration.
I realize now creatively, at least for me, is based in love. Love for life. Love for beauty and tragedy. Ten years is a long time to misplace that spark. I am glad I found it again. I don’t think it ever left, I let it go. Hurtful words tend to do that.
The different between then and now is that I love something. I love it with everything in me. These last 8 months have been wonderful for feeling again, for loving again. I feel like I finally came back to myself.
So, I bought a new sketch book. Time to doodle again. Time to write again. Time to love and create. I guess it makes sense to create is to love. It’s based in love. It’s necessary and vital. I just forgot.
What is grief?
Grief is the unsent letter.
The undialed call.
Grief is the all the in-betweens.
It’s the beginning not the end.
Today’s Easter Sunday.
My maternal grandmother was a devout Episcopalian. She used to dress me, my sister and cousins up in dresses to attend church. This was in South Dakota so it wasn’t quite warm enough to wear dresses so we usually ended up having wear a heavy winter coat over the dress. The thin white stockings and white patent leather shoes weren’t quite enough to keep the cold away.
The Easter before she passed, we dressed up and we went to church but this time, my sister and cousins decided after church we would go for a walk while the adults sat and drank coffee. Our walk took us up a very steep hill where we subsequently got stuck. Leather patent shoes are not good for hiking. My oldest cousin had to hike up the hill to retrieve us.
Despite getting stuck on a hill in a frilly white dress and white patent shoes, that Easter is the one I remember most vividly. I remember eating sweet breads bought from the store and boiled eggs for breakfast. I remember the feel of my aunts fingers on my scalp and in my hair as she braided my hair. I remember my grandma singing hyms in Lakota. I remember her in green, the color of spring. Her curly hair done up with streams of silver dotting here and there.
My grandma was not very old when she passed. She was in her mid-50’s. Quite young I can say now. She loved her grandchildren, we were the most important. I can’t at-will recall the sound of her voice, it takes context. I remember her that morning. The happy laughter and the look of contentment. She loved Easter lilies. They weren’t as prevalent as they are today but I remember how she used to stare at them in church. A look of open adoration for the flower. She’s the reason I love lilies. They remind me of her.
It’s been 38 years since she left and I still miss her. Especially on Easter.
Baldur’s Gate 3 will not have a DLC or part 4.
Larian, the maker of Baldur’s Gate 3, will not be making a downloadable content or a Baldur’s Gate 4.
I am not surprised or upset. These last seven months, since August 3, 2023, have been wonderful. The voice actors have been open and creating content. Some are streaming on Twitch. It’s been amazing. I’ve loved every minute. I’ve never had an experience quite like this.
I remember the launch of different videogames, like Mass Effect 3 or Dragon Age 2 being similar with the excitement and connection with other players but never to the voice actors. Not at this level. For me, that’s what sets Baldur’s Gate 3 apart.
I’ve learned so much because of this game. I learned D&D. I learned turn based combat mechanics. I found new podcasts and met wonderful people. This game has brought so much joy to my life. A very small part of me is disappointed that the journey will not continue but the rest of me is looking forward to the next videogames like Dragon Age: Dread Wolf.
I think it’s because Baldur’s Gate 3 came out of nowhere. It was not anywhere in my awareness. I had no expectation of it. I had no hype. I tried playing, I loved it and I have continued to play. It has been without expectation from the beginning and even now, I have no expectations into the future. Certainly now with Larian saying there is no future. But that doesn’t upset me.
Maybe it’s my age, maybe is my experience but I am happy to have played this videogame. I am happy to have had the experiences I have had these last seven months. I will look back on this time in my life with joy and happiness knowing I found something so wonderful unexpectedly. What a joy it has been. Until the next…
Note to self
- I cannot see into or know the hearts of others.
- Everyone get’s fooled.
Thoughts on music
There are so many songs that remind me of a time, a place and a person. Josh Groban’s song, “Awake” reminds me of my husband and the summer of 1992. Music has been a stream of my consciousness since I could remember. When I was a little girl, the song “Amarillo by morning” by Georg Strait was the saddest song I ever heard. If I want to remember a something, I look for a song. I look for the feelings it inspired and that leads to memories. Sometimes I can’t remember a face or a time then I would hear a song and everything comes flooding back.
I love music for that reason. It was late in life I learned to play the guitar. I want to pick it back up because there is something vital, life giving and life altering, that creating music inspires. Sometimes it was the only way I could find a way to express those convoluted thoughts, feelings and memories. I like to think of music as that thread between me and others. Sometimes words fall flat when trying to express what I am feeling but a song can express it perfectly. Music courses through everything. Even in the day to day world music can be found. Be it in a hum, a whistle or just softly sung notes.
“Meet me in Montana” by Dan Seals and Marie Osmond, that’s another song. It reminds me of my uncle. He loved Montana. Thinking of him makes me realize how often he spoke of Montana and how much it was a part of his life and everything he loved. Despite the fact he lived there only briefly. I remember thinking Montana was this mystical and magical place all because it was wrapped up in a song. Montana was the place to be, at least, according to my uncle. He’s gone now but “Meet me in Montana” remains and in so many ways so does he.
That’s the power of music.
More RGB! MORE!
I have added another LED light strip to my PC. Now I have a light strip on the top of the case in addition to the bottom. I am now contemplating strimmers for my GPU and the motherboard. So very tempting. I like to refer to myself as a technological magpie. My shinnies are RGB lights in my PC. Maybe its because my PC to look Las Vegas at midnight or I just love lights. Either way, the colors are beautiful. The theme for the lights is “Night Sky.” As beautiful as it sounds. I am very happy with the additional LED light strip. Now do I dare more?