In Progress (Aren't We All?)

Draft 7 is on the way. In progress (aren't we all?). Streaming wildly, slowly, softly, thoroughly. Writing in stream of consciousness style of late, and it seems to be working. The connection to my father grows and grows as the days without him pass me by. It seems to me that the connection I create (retain?) by writing about him and me and our relationship and what it was like to lose him and live with him and take care of him and feel guilty for not taking better care of him, for not making him well and making him beat the cancer. By writing about all of this, my love soars and my heart grows for him. I have new and old appreciations coming to light for all of my relationships. I feel less at ease with questions in passing and long for deep conversations about who you are and what's important to you. I feel motivated to share this connection with my father, to share this connection with you, with him, with her, with everyone, everywhere. Because aren't we all connected? Don't we all share something (what is it, what is it??) with each other? We share this emotion, this passion, this grace, this gratitude, this life, this focus, this awareness, this conscious effort to [be who I am], this grief, this loss, this air, this memory—albeit for different things, but we share it nonetheless.

And so I remain in progress, as ever I will be while I'm alive (don't you, too?). At some point the book will be finished and cease to be in progress, but me, I prefer to always be on to the next bit of growth.

As for the book...I'll be testing excerpts (although is it still an excerpt if it doesn't actually end up in the book?) to see how it feels to get some of this out into the world.

I must remember to breathe.