It has been no secret that the last two years have sucked. Seriously.
When my father died, my heart broke but what made it even worse was that we could not have a funeral due to Covid-19.
Imagine that you already feel like a useless lump of clay for not being able to be by his side when he passed but it is made worse by the fact that you can’t get together with others and mourn him.
Time passes…
As some of you have realized by now I am a geek the size of Godzilla. Sci-fi books, games, and toys line the shelves. Outfits that cost more than I am willing to admit fill a closet. I even have a jewel case full of medallions, necklaces, coronets and other awards that may would find amusing.
Yeah, a geek.
BUT, my Dad always realized I was a geek and even seemed to relish the fact.
So, recently, I did something that Dad would have loved.
I am in a group called the Society for Creative Anachronism. No, we are NOT LARPers. We try to recreate the Middle Ages the way they should have been.
Each year we meet north of Pittsburgh for what is basically our world-wide convention. But, due to Covid, this had not occurred for three years.
Until, three weeks ago, we met again! HALLELUJAH!
I don’t think I had gotten that many hugs during my entire life as I got in those ten days. It was great.
And that is when I did it.
There is a tradition in our organization based on how the Vikings used to honor chieftains who passed. The chief’s body would be placed on a boat that would then be launched. Once at sea, a flaming arrow would be launched to set the boat aflame. The flaming pyre would float off into the night and the spirit would be guided to Valhalla.
Each year, a scale model Viking boat is created and put on display. People can put the coats of arms, cards, photos or notes about their loved ones on it. On the last evening of the event, it is launched into the lake just after dusk and a flaming arrow sets it alight.
This happens every year but I had not witnessed the ceremony for years.
This year would be different.
First, I asked permission from my loved ones before I left.
Then, I found the last picture of my Dad and I that I had taken and printed it out. He was smiling and it made my heart skip a beat.
I went to the booth with the ship the day before the ceremony. And, the boat was filled. Covid had really taken a toll on our organization and the three year gap made it all the worse.
I had not thought it would affect me this way but I had a flutter in my throat as I wrote a note to Dad on the photo and placed it within the ship.
The next night, I begged out early of my obligations and made my way to the lake. The night was beautiful. A full moon blazed down on the water and illuminated the crowd on the peninsula.
Across the water, I saw the procession approach the bank carrying the ship on their shoulders. Bowing low they placed the boat on the lake and unfurled the sails. The skiff floated out over the moonlit waters.
Then, a flaming arrow lit up the sky aiming straight at the ship.
At first, the flame was small but then it grew and grew and grew. The light floated across the waters.
Dad would have loved it!
That is when I realized someone was crying. Not just a someone but many someones. Tears swept over the crowd with the smoke from the fire.
That is when I realized I was also crying. Yeah, I broke down and wept to the base of my heart.
Someone put their arm around me and we bawled.
“Dad, I miss you!” I shouted out in a shower of shouts and calls and tears.
It was beautiful…
Tales From An Old Ford 