“Your Dad wouldn’t want you to give up on the business of living..”
That’s what my Doctor told me today. He said to write, journal – because it’s what I’m good at. Write down all the stories that your Dad told you, because you’re their keeper now.
My Dad died June 1, 2026 after a short but traumatic battle with Cancer and everything that came with it. I haven’t found all the words yet, but I have some.
stories that carry us
153 days from known sickness to death
“14,750 days my Dad”
Your bladder is full of holes
“An old telephone pole washed into the beach, that’s what my workbench is made of..”
You have prostate cancer
“We almost lived in Bide Arm one time. The old man didn’t like it so we all left and come back..”
You can’t go home, sir
“We got the foundation for the house in Hill’s Harbour from the old place with the whaling factory, cut it all up with the chainsaw, towed it there by boat..”
You have three options
“Why is life so unfair, you work all your life for what you got, now I got to give it all away..”
You can try going to St. John’s to replace the tubes
“I got three geese one time, I had to come back home and get Lucy’s inflatable boat to go get them because they was in a spot I couldn’t get to..”
The cancer has spread to your liver and bones
“As far as I’m concerned, the land should go back as though you were never there. No need of it. Tear down all the old stages.”
He’s not going to eat anymore
“Tell your Mother to stay in the house as long as she likes, then sell it..”
Time of Death, 10:34 a.m.
“I love you, Dad, everything’s going to be ok..”
Colour of Outdoors by Mandy Ford 