Sunday, 17 June 2018

Don't be sorry, just don't do it (again).

That was a favourite phrase of my Dad's, though my brother and I dispute the "again" at the end - it's how I remember it.  And I remember so many things - rightly or wrongly - which I can only hope that I remember forever.  Memory changes for everyone over time, but sadly it changed to a heart-breaking extent for my Dad with Alzheimer's.  I love this image of him in Spring of 2006; even as Alzheimer's was slowly strengthening its hold, he maintained his cheeky self.  I had a great relationship with my Dad, so we were close in that sense, yet I didn't really know him that well.  (Do children ever really know their parents?)  I was always seeking his approval, much like I think I know well enough that he did with his father; I just happened to be fortunate to have my father around.  So, if I didn't measure up, I took it oh-so-seriously...but was the pressure from him or from within?  Still, when I met the wonderful person and potter John Colbeck in 2014, I thought, oh, I like him, he reminds me so much of Dad!  Our interactions weren't much but just enough, allora (okay then) imagine my confident eagerness to learn from him as a mentor three years later.  But then almost from the start of Piccolpasso 2017, I hit a wall.  A nearly insurmountable, emotional wall.  It did not fully dawn on me until the end of our eight weeks that John was so much like my Dad, that I fell into (set myself up for?) the same dynamic in the relationship, upon which I didn't fully reflect until today.  Of course, I always want to be the best, but really, I just want to do well, to do right by my Dad (and John) for having had the privilege of knowing them.  Sorry, guys, I'll do better from now on.  Oops, sorry