I have wonderful memories of my father from my childhood, and now that he has passed I remember things in more detail than I had before. My father was a writer who had written several books that I remember him trying to get published. One being an 800 page novel about Vietnam. He tried and tried to get this book published and was never successful. I remember his disappointment like it was yesterday. I always overheard conversations between my mother and father about his frustration, but he always remained optimistic that someday it would happen for him.
My father was an amazing story teller. He could make up the best bedtime stories. In fact every year for my Birthday I would have a slumber party with my little friends just so he could tell us a ghost story. I remember his voice being perfect for those stories. It was deep and he could make it boom when the story needed it.
As an adult and parent of my own kids I looked forward to my girls being able to sit with their grandfather and listen wide eyed to his wonderful stories, but unfortunately he was diagnosed with cancer in 1999. He even started writing a book about living with cancer and his fight, trying to still fulfill his dream of becoming a published author.
His battle ended in 2002. My children have no memories of his storytelling which deeply saddens me. I was very disappointed for him that none of his books were ever published.
In July 2002, my girls were ages two and three. I was very sad that summer and was on autopilot as a mother. Some mornings I would wake up and tell myself that this would be the day I was not going to cry. That is when it happened.
My daughters and I went for a walk one afternoon in the forest by our house. While we were walking we saw a dragonfly, a bug neither girl had ever seen before. They asked me what the dragonfly was and a story came to me like I had heard it many times before. My explanation is what my book "The Day I Saw a Dragonfly" is about. I am convinced to this day that my father was with us that afternoon.
I immediately rushed home and started writing the story down before I forgot it. I got to thinking, could I be the one who was going to fulfill my father's dream for him?