Dad’s walking stick

The last few years of my dad’s life, as he was battling the esophageal cancer which would ultimately claim his life, he would walk down by the Greybull River where I grew up. He would gather long sticks of diamond willow (because knot holes in it are diamond shaped) and spend weeks scraping off the bark with a river rock while sitting in the sun at a picnic table my brother built. Then he polished it into walking staffs. I have one I never used because I was healthy and young when he died, but I am neither now. So I recently took it out for a walk on our country road. The emotions were all over the place, missing my Dad, feeling supported by him even though this February was the 25th since he died. Also feeling old and sick and invalidated. It’s a fact of humanity that our bodies have very few days when they are exactly as we would wish them to be, and then we are so distracted we barely register it. So instead we must get our living done in imperfect vessels and still be grateful we have them at all.

[Pat Knowles]

Beautifully smooth carved walking stuck. I’m not surprised you feel emotional on your walk….your dad would be very close to you & no matter how long ago he died the memories are vivid.
Good sentiments there…..hope your health is only a blip.