Remember to Answer Their Questions

The boy requested instant noodles. Lord only knows where he got the idea from. “Which ones?” Poppa asked. “These ones are 99 cents. Those ones are $2.30.”

“What’s the difference?” Mr 5 inquired.

When I arrived to pick up Ollie from Poppa’s place later that afternoon, they were both at the table, with two steaming pots of noodles in front of them. One pot was plain-pack, the other an ironically unidentifiable name brand. They had compared the contents of the flavour sachets, and were conducting a taste test worthy of a 3-star sommelier. Ollie was quick to point out that both pottles contained a “foldy fork”.

“So” said Poppa. “What’s the difference?”

Ollie’s eyes swivelled up and left, indicating deep thought. “We-eeell”, he said in trademark singsong, “I thought the one with pictures would be better, but they taste the same.” The conclusion was obvious. “The pictures must cost a lot, but I don’t think they’re worth it.” He nodded sagely to himself.

I think it was about three months later that Dad passed away. It’s been four months since then. In those four months I’ve never answered Ollie with “just because”, or “I don’t know”. And I hope I never do again.

Miss you Dad.

I may be a little while…

Please forgive the lack of posts for the next couple of weeks. I’m deeply involved in the circle of life at the moment.

Dad passed away on Wednesday, and we’re expecting baby 2.0 this Wednesday. Both a blessing and a curse all in the space of a week.

Wallace Gracewood
Wallace Gracewood

My engineer brain can’t help but observe the feelings I’m having with deep interest. I often marvel at the cognitive dissonance when you imagine diving into the sea on an acid-cold Winter day. Yet that same grey, icy sea is so welcoming in February.

Perhaps the only way to truly appreciate life is to witness death first hand? Or the best way to understand the warmth and love of family is to have a member torn away from you too soon?

Hard and Soft. Yin and Yang.

Death and Life.