Death of a Parent

On Sunday November 12th at 4:50 pm PST my father Harvey Manning passed away at the age of 81.

http://news.google.ca/news?sourceid=navclient&ie=UTF-8&rls=RNWE,RNWE:2005-25,RNWE:en&q=harvey%20manning&oe=UTF-8&sa=N&tab=in

This picture was taken on his 80th birthday. I left for Canada about a month later, so this is the last picture of him but is in no way my last memory of my father.

You know everyone knows intellectually that mortality is one thing we all have in common, it's a given unless you are in your 20's and then you think you are immortal. But having to face and feel the lose of a parent is so, so much different. When a reporter interviewed me about my father, it was so hard to put into words who he was and my memories of him. How do you tell a complete stranger about a man that even after 47 years is still a mystery to me?

He was my buddy pal. That was our nicknames for each other. He was my one and only buddy pal and I will never have another. He was the man that rescued me from what he called them my evil older stepsisters, though they were no more evil then your average sibling and they weren't my stepsisters. This probably did little to help my relationship with my sisters growing up and I remember years of what was then called rough housing but now would be considered bodily injury. On weekends when my sisters were too old to go hiking and had their own lives and were prowling for blood I would go as my father put it lets go exploring Claudia. I said you don't get no where 'xploring. But I went because going no where 'xploring was better then what lay at home. We would take our sandwiches of pumpernickel bread which is think and dense and dark brown and add peanut butter to it. This is a meal that should be taken with several gallons of water but tasted good to me. Along with that we would share a milky way candy bar and a warm cream soda. Life was good. We were hiking up Bandera mountain one warm weekend, following the logging roads towards the ridge of the mountain. The clear cut afforded us a beautiful view but little in the way of shade. I said I bet we are going to see a marmot. My father said Claudie this isn't the right kind place for a marmot to live. Minutes later a marmot poked his head from a large rock, whistled and disappeared down a hole below the rock.

As we were close to reaching the top of the ridge the afternoon sun warming up the cream soda to body temperature I said, bet there is a lake on the other side of the ridge. Daddy said, I don't think so buddy pal, the map shows no lake. We reached the top and looked down and there was a lake surrounded by trees and mountains.

So being only 9 or 10 years old and being two for two, I considered on this day we did get somewhere going 'xploring.

My father was a man of great passions, whether it was food, cigarettes, booze, writing or his fight to save nature. His great passion was the saving of the wild spaces in Washington, the others were his addictions, that other then food he conquered along the way.

Today I feel less then who I was, because I no longer have that one parent or that one special love that goes with having a parent. I am feeling less unique, I am still Harvey Manning's daughter but I no longer have him to see and hug. He wasn't a man who was comfortable opening up to people and I never was able to break through the walls and barriers he created to protect himself from others, but what I knew of him I either liked, loved or finally as I got older accepted and forgave.

They say death is final and one doesn't realize it until it happens close to home. Because I am here in Canada and am working on getting my landed resident status, leaving the country to be at home with my mother and siblings might mean I would be refused entrance back into the country for six months and I can't afford the risk.

That makes me sad, but then again on the other side I also know that there is a count down of how long my sisters can get along before something big, bad and nasty will happen. Since Penny and Becky don't talk to me anymore, some of it my fault some of it theirs, I won't be there for the blow up or accusations or attacks. So I am thankful to Canada for that. With Paul my younger brother we talk and are close so maybe he will call me from Seattle.

What is sad is to be here in a city where I have no close friends and feel so alone and to know that they are all together without me, but what makes it worse is even my father dying won't bring us together like some Lifetime movie.

Daddy I will miss you more then you know. I am your daughter. I too fought the same addictions as you did. My one hope is that I will find my passion so I can do something in my life that I am proud of and that you would be proud of me for doing.

I love you Daddy.