Purple Tulips

I always referred to Aiden and Reece (my goddaughters) as My Beautiful Tulips. Reece died on December 27, 2007. Her funeral was early January. At the funeral we all wore purple ribbons in memory of her. The morning of the interment I went to the local Safeway to get some flowers to put on her casket. At first I thought daisies, as they are her birth flower (April). I walked around for a while carrying Gerber Daisies in my hands. But they didn't feel right. Then I saw the flower fridge. Inside the fridge were purple tulips. They were perfect. I felt as though Reece had placed them there for me; as if she knew I would need them. Because really? Purple tulips in Saskatchewan in January? A rarity for sure.

On February 28, 2009, my Aunt Laura (one of my dad's 5 sisters) died of lung cancer. She was 61. She lived here in Victoria, so I was fortunate enough to spend a good deal of time with her in her final days. Such a lovely woman. I remember she died on a Saturday. The Wednesday prior to this I had stopped in to see her at Hospice and saw that she was starting to change. I knew it wouldn't be long. I sat at her bedside and she tried to talk to me but was so tired so I just held her hand. Then, I asked her a very selfish question. I said "Aunt Laura, can you do me a favour? When you get to heaven could you tell Reece that I love her?" I cried. She opened her eyes and said to me "Oh Erin. I'll take such good care of her! I can see her already, with her beautiful smile and big blue eyes." I cried more and she comforted me. This woman, in her final days, comforted me!!! She looked at me and said "You need to go get yourself some purple tulips." :)

I have purple tulips on my coffee table today.

Morningtown Ride

I have been missing my dad a lot these days. I mean, I miss him every day ... these days it just hurts more than usual. There was nothing to trigger it really ... Well, my car was making a weird noise the other day and in the past I would always go to my dad about these kinds of issues. Then I just really miss the sound of his voice. I miss calling and having him answer and say "Hi Munchkin!" I'm a 30-year-old woman and my father was still calling me Munchkin, or 'Munch' for short. I miss it. I miss his terrible jokes. I miss his laugh. I miss ... I just ... I miss him ...

It's almost as though it's getting harder the longer he's gone. He wasn't a part of my everyday life. We didn't speak every day. I only saw him a few times a year at best. But now I don't have a choice. And sometimes ... sometimes a girl just needs her dad.

Here is a picture of him participating in the Battle of Atlantic Sunday Parade here in Victoria in May 2008. He was so proud and so happy to be there!


I've been listening to his CD a bit more the past few days - trying to get my fix, I guess. Dad was always such an amazing musician. If I had to choose one song that reminded me of dad ... well, it's just not possible. He knew too many! But there is one song in particular, I guess, that will never make me think of anyone but him. It's called "Morningtown Ride". It's a lullaby. He used to sing it to me when I was a kid. I'd like to share the lyrics here.

Train whistle blowin' makes a sleepy noise
Underneath their blankets go all the girls and boys
Rockin', rollin', ridin', out along the bay
All bound for Morningtown, many miles away

Driver at the engine, fireman rings the bell
Sandman swings the lantern to show that all is well
Rockin', rollin', ridin', out along the bay
All bound for Morningtown, many miles away

Maybe it is raining where our train will ride
All the little travellers are warm and snug inside
Rockin', rollin', ridin', out along the bay
All bound for Morningtown, many miles away

Somewhere there is sunshine, somewhere there is day
Somewhere there is Morningtown, many miles away
Rockin', rollin', ridin', out along the bay
All bound for Morningtown, many miles away

Rockin', rollin', ridin', out along the bay
All bound for Morningtown, many miles away.

I miss you, dad. So much it hurts. I need you right now.

So if you're there ...