A Final Quest

Connecting one last time.

Saguaro National Park, Arizona, on my last hike with my father. Copyright@2015 David E. Marlow

When I think of my dad…

When I think of my dad, something Clarence Kelland said comes to mind.

"My father didn't tell me how to live; he lived and let me watch him do it."

That was kind of my dad. I don't recall him ever buying a dog, but he had dogs. They'd show up, and he'd feed them, and they'd become his dog. And they were always marvelous dogs.

He had these trees in his front yard that he hadn't even planted. He noticed some self-starter maples or walnut trees, and he would mow around them.

Violá, trees in his yard.

He wouldn't throw anything away if it was 'still good', a leftover from growing up in the depression.

He wasn't always that way, I'm sure. When he was 17, he joined the Navy and fought in submarines in WW II. He shared some things with me after I joined the Marine Corps that made it clear it wasn't an easygoing experience.

Though I don't think he ever heard the word, in his later years, he lived his Ikigai like no one else I've known.

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After retiring, he would spend winter in Arizona. Most years, I would schedule a week to spend with him there.

In our last conversation, he said he enjoyed just sitting and being together, which is what we did. Not a lot of talking, just being.

That entire week was that way. Whether we were hiking in the desert or sitting and watching the sun go down, we connected like never before.

Without planning to do so, we were on a quest to know and experience one another.

At week’s end, we hugged and said our goodbyes. As he turned away, I pulled him close one more time and kissed him on the head like I did when I was a boy.

“I’m glad you’re my dad. I love you.”

“I love you too.”

It would be less than a week later that he would be gone.

He was a complex and imperfect man, and he was my hero. I miss him.

Quest well.

Saguaro National Park, Arizona Copyright@2023 David E. Marlow