Jazz music

Today I have been writing my father's obituary. He died yesterday in hospital quietly, fast, perhaps painlessly, but it was hard to tell. I am glad I was here, and my whole family was here — Evan, Andy, Mom — for him these last days. He wasn't alone. There's much more, there's been so many stories told this last week — so much laughter and tears — and there's more, so I am going out and buying a new tape recorder, and going listen and learn about dad. I will show you all what becomes of his stories, one day.


***

A draft —

Dalrymple, Dr. Andrew J. (a.k.a. Blue)

After a 17-year struggle with Parkinsons, Andy died May 12 with family at his side. A wonderfully smart, entertaining and difficult man, he lived an inspiring life. From homeless immigrant in Vancouver, to respected doctor of psychology, with a beautiful wife and three kids, and ultimately, a vanguard artist, it was a tremendous 57 years. When illness made his career impossible, he launched a new life, driven by a desire to create and express. A poet, playwright, experimental painter, novelist, entrepeneur and inventor, he is remembered most for his wisdom and humour, by Frances and their boys Andy, Evan, and Toby, and grandkids Jenna and Ian. Donations sent to Parkinsons Society of Canada. xxxx


***

how do you boil a life down - such a life, your father's - in a hundred-word death notice?

***


So call me sailor, again. I am leaving for Europe in a few weeks. He would have wanted that, he would have done it, too.