ode to pierre trudeau

ah, insomnia. you plague me...

i recently watched a documentary on "cirque du soleil". the spectacular canadian movement troupe. i've seen "O", "Le Reve" and "Zumanity", and my jaw hit the floor every time.

this one was called "all together now" and explored the collaboration between le cirque, the remaining beatles and their spouses, and sir george martin and his son. the dynamic present was fascinating and it renewed my love for beatles' music. i especially loved paul's less than modest comment..."we were a fucking great band!". yeah, you were...

oh, my throbbing heart. tears dropped.

i had an "a-ha" moment, recently. whenever i listen to beatles' music, i am transported. tears well up and my heart is full.

they were my dad's favorite. their melodies often played upon his tongue. he wore out our record player with their albums. and i remember his serenades of "octopus' garden", "i wanna hold your hand" and "yellow submarine" in the car, at home; everywhere. yes, we shared the love of music.

and so much more.

my postings about him have been intense; but i need to embrace his whole in order to be at peace with his legacy.

he loved music. he often sang in the car. (like me). he was outgoing. he was creative. he was intelligent. he was organized. he was adventurous. he loved to travel...and he was chronically ill.

beautiful disasters...

"i'd like to be, under the sea, in an octopus' garden in the shade"...

we traveled to ottawa, canada when i was oh, but just a girl. he wanted to show us the world. england, peterborough, sudbury, washington, d.c. and ottawa... and he taught us so much. he often kept us at home because he believed queen elizabeth's 25th silver jubilee to be more important than school.

priorities.

when we went to ottawa; we were spoiled. but there was a plan in place. we visited canada's parliament; where trudeau reigned.

magic. amazement. humility.

as our prime minister spoke, i watched in rapture. daddy bent over and whispered in my ear. "look how he wears a carnation in his lapel". "it's his trademark". "he's never without it". "it's my favorite flower, too".

i often buy these flowers. they grace my table tonight. i've often bought them for him. and i have placed them on his grave. they last forever, as i wish he could have. and they bring me joy.

i feel pain when i think of him; but my memories are joyful, too. and despite everything, it's time to embrace joy, joy, joy.

i feel so connected to him; in so many ways.

and the carnations bring me home to him.

bring him home.