Serendipitous Girl

Over the last eighteen months, I came to honestly know a man I could only dream of having in my life—my Dad. Finally, he wasn't just the Dad I wanted, but the Dad I needed. He had come and gone too many times. Now, it didn't matter why he had returned to our lives. It just mattered that he did. Through our countless hours of conversation, I finally understood why he was the man he was, which made coming to terms with our sometimes volatile relationship much easier. Yesterday, my Mom said, "Take time to process and feel what you need to feel." I told her, "I need a month or two alone in a tiny, secluded beach town where I can just listen to music and write." I've been through enough death and grief to understand that the process is anything but linear. This past week, going through my Dad's things has been a rollercoaster of emotions. He saved everything. At first, it was almost annoying, but I couldn't find it in me to be annoyed—only sad.  I kno...

The day after finding out my Dad had passed, my best friend checked in on me, "How are you holding up?" My answer was simple, "I'm not." I told him, "I am blocked. I can't write." A few minutes later, I scrolled through my music library and found my muse—the words and music of David Gilmour and Rodger Waters. As the music of Shine on You Crazy Diamond began, the tears and words magically flowed like a fountain. Today, we celebrate and remember the man, the myth, the legend—my Dad, Bill Garrett. My Dad was an enigma. Quirky even. He marched to the beat of his own drum, living life on his own terms—even until the very end. I've met many stubborn individuals in my life, but I can unequivocally say he was the most headstrong, stubborn person I ever knew. It was a blessing and a curse all in one. We often laughed about nature vs nurture and our shared traits. He was proud to claim he generously shared that headstrong trait with me and his grandchild...