C'est fini. Mostly.

And thus chronicles my life since my father died.

I just listed out a litany of the things I have done and not done in the past two and a half years, but I'm not sure why I did that, and so I deleted it.

I did things that, possibly, I should not have done. But I don't regret them.

And there were things that I had deigned to do and didn't. I do regret them.

I like this picture. It was taken in June 2008. During the time that I was up at Lasqueti my father chastised me for not changing out of my damp gear after a run, but I assured him I knew what I was doing.

A week or two ago I had a dream about him. We were driving up his driveway at Lasqueti and he was wearing that green sweater - I don't know where it is now - anyways, at some point during this dream I came to realize or remember that when I woke up he would be gone and so I had this one singular opportunity of clarity to say whatever it was that I wanted to say to him. So I turned to him and I said as clearly as I could, "I love you, Dad".