Courtney River Estuary - A piece of me.

On a beautiful summer evening while I was in Comox, Dad and I went for a walk along the Courtney River Estuary pathway. It has a special place for him; many a childhood day was spent along the banks throwing rocks at the seals. Along the path historical markers tell the story of the river and the valley and the people that settled there. Just at the base of the estuary at the entrance to the river portion lays a marker with our own family ties to that history. It speaks of the tug boat captains and blazen in all his glory is great grandpa L. A fine mariner if you ever saw him. It's a picture all of us have in our living rooms. A PIECE of us. He is beautiful.

Dad is reticent here. It's like he goes into his head and you can see the memories wash over him. He tells me about the seals and how they were so hated. They ate the salmon and the fish stock; "our food" he says. There were 100's there.

The bald eagles sweep past as they fish while the tide comes back in. You can't find a much more beautiful place then here. I think somehow that's my song singing. I realize it's a beauty those of us who tie ourselves to the land and sea feel very deeply there. I watch him as he stares into the sea. Is he thinking about his grandparents, his father, his early years. He won't give me the answers but every now and then he starts to speak and I listen. These are the gifts of his memories he rarely shares. There is so much there so few of us know anything about. I love my Dad in a way I never knew I could. I see a sadness some times I wish with all my heart I could fix. He and Mom spoke everyday. Who does he speak with now? This is where the guilt comes in because I know I don't phone him enough.

We continue down the path and I begin to notice that as we pass by each bench he slowly meanders over, timidly, and reads the memorial plaques. He lets out a sad gasp with those he recognizes and realizes they have passed. He finds relief when he doesn't know the honorary. The most telling words are when he recognizes the name and comments they were in a class under him. He then speaks of how the honoured are getting younger and younger not realizing he himself is aging.

I find it hard sometimes, I am half an orphan and I dread the day he leaves too. We are in a very real way defined by our parents. How do we then define ourselves when they are no longer with us?


This is where I send another form of gratitude out to the universe. How lucky are we to still have this amazing man, how grateful to have an opportunity to spend the time to learn of him in a way only he could tell.


Enjoy the landscape of the beautiful place. And for my children, I hope you can one day feel a song here too. I will share the story of your aunties, your grandmothers, grandfathers, uncles and what living here meant to them as my father tells it.