As the tide ebbs and flows, I am taken back to a time when my father was small. I can almost see him and Jeff David as small boys out on their little raft on the big ocean. I can see my grandmother and Cecilia (Jeff’s mother) standing on the beach, heart in throats, as they watch their children defy death at a young age. As I look at the same ocean, the same mountains, the same beach my heart weeps for what has past but my heart still has hope. Hope for the future, for family, for what is to come.
My sister, Gwen and I have finished our first weaving, our first circle. We’ve completed it during a time while we were preparing for our father’s last party. A time of letting our grief go. His ko.eek. I can’t believe it has been a year since he passed.
As I write this blog, I can’t help but think of the struggle Gwen and I had as we finished our first circle. At first, we thought, hey, this is easier than we thought. Over nine hours later, we found out we were wrong. As we struggled through closing our first circle, I can’t help but think how my family has come full circle since my father’s passing a year ago.
My father passed without getting to meet my newest nephew, my brother, Luke and his wife Rayleen’s son, Grayson. My father passed away in October and Grayson was born in January. I know my father was very excited about his newest grandson to be born. I wonder if he thought about who Grayson would become, what Grayson’s dreams would be, what Grayson will accomplish in his life. A circle has no beginning, no end, it continues on. Grayson carries my father’s name, David, as his middle name. He also carries his Grandfather’s Tlingit name of Yaakwaan, given to him at his Grandfather’s ko.eek. A circle ending and a new circle beginning. The completion of a life, the completion of a circle.
