beautiful remembrances of your father’s amazing life & adventures & messages from heaven!
tears are rolling down my cheek as I read this having learned a few days ago my beloved baby sister has cancer, my thoughts and prayers intensely focused on her healing body-mind-spirit in the name of Jesus Christ … heartbroken
Thank you for your sweet message, kitten. I am deeply saddened by the news about your sister. Healing is definitely possible with the right mind-set and willingness to make lifestyle change💝.
my sister has had a very healthy lifestyle as far as physical activity (avid tennis player & backpacker/hiker), healthy diet, nothing in excess, very balanced.
she is a two time cancer survivor so this will be her third time.
the only unhealthy behavior: being a completely loving, trusting individual… love & trust of which this world has proven itself unworthy.
Oh my goodness. Three bouts with cancer. And I get your point: Being too trusting is not a healthy attribute. My dad was that way with the medical system which killed him possible a decade early. Wishing your sister a third win, and you a gentle time throughout the process. Grace and peace to you both🙏💝.
Thank you for sharing the inspiring story of your father.
He was absolutely a Valhalla Warrior, true Einherjar, just as you are a Valkyrie, and a true Wishmaiden.
I hope you will take it as a friendly tribute, somewhat unrelated but not entirely off point, if I share an invocation to a Norse goddess, who took the form of a pretty cool Playboy Playmate, as I wrote of her, our fight, and Valhalla in my third book (WonderWomen)
"Suzi Simpson was amazing, as she stretched, arms upturned akimbo, woollen mittens cradled behind her head—red, white, and blue to pick up the colors in each of her nordic headband, modern sunglasses, and carelessly aristocratic scarf—gazing sideways, regal into the distance, chest thrust out, to face the camera, large heavy breasts covered by a white turtleneck, which, though loose, did nothing to hide their shape, as her knockers were lifted, cradled, and accented, by navy blue ski-overalls, leg bent, to bring out the womanly curves of her hips.
"Like Skaði, the jötunn born to Iðunn, the Apple Giver, taken by Þjazi, her Eagle Father, flying north to his nest, as Frigga, the Sun- Mother shines, low in the sky, to bless their union, while her skis squeak, scrape, and rattle over the wilds of the mountains, down, through, across, the icy valleys, so her bow sings for prey, the Playmate Goddess stood before the glacier.
"Like my own photos of the Great Land, which sit on my bed table, the pictorial shows clouds, striated by scalar waves, broadcast by the worthless homosexual gnomes, deviant losers that attack our planet, our people, and all life, beaching whales with sonar attacks, leading my daughter away from the snow-sports, all as the slaves play video-games, with ionospheric heaters, hidden, in the Arctic.
"Against the strangely marbled sky, filled with fungus, smeared with smart-dust, Susan-Skathi stands!
"Showing scorn, sending screams, and scathing slaves, her Playmate Hunting Cry calls the Brave to Battle, so I invoke her aid, drinking reborn, singing glad, in Freyja’s Hall, where we prepare for Ragnarök!"
Funny thing is that Susan Singstock, who posed under the name Suzi Simpson, was the daughter of a career naval officer, who spent time in Alaska, while the her issue of Playboy featured "The Swedish Bikini Team."
Anyway, I noticed that the scum killed your dad, doubtless with a strike from a directed energy weapon on 2:25 on 5.22 when he was 88, which is just so very them.
So this reminds me of another Viking bit in my third book, which may fit the occasion, so we do not merely honor your father but we curse the trash that are the enemies of all true human beings.
"My friend, Shawn Garris, whose father, Doctor Garris, served as superintendent of schools, would take interest in Norse mythology, as his friend sent handwritten letters from jail, one of which he shared with me, about the ravens, who appear as Thought and Memory, on the shoulders of Odin, a great man who suffered terribly, as the Illuminati gouged out his eye, before they strapped his body to a tree, fixed with a lightning rod, using primitive versions of the cybernetics, trauma, and electro-shock with which they now entrain people.
"The raven is the bird of blood, corpses and battle, the gull of the wave of the corpse-heap, who screams, hailstorm-dashed, craving his morning steak when he flies to the sea of bodies!
"It is my mildest wish that ravens rend the unburied enemy dead, making sweet cates of their eyes, and weaving nests from their hair, as they enact a right reckoning.
"Since the ravens followed armies, to eat the dead, the daughters of Ragnor Redstocking made the Raven Banner, under which his sons led the Great Heathen Army, and, later, Canute the Great flew a magic pennant of white silk when he won the Battle of Essendune, north of the Danes’ Woods, where he fed the blood-bird with the soldiers of Edmund Ironside.
"The Norse believed the Valkyries assumed the form of the raven, strangely shape-shifting, as the Shield Bearers carry the brave spirits of fallen warriors to one of two mead halls, where they await the Twilight of the Gods, in which they will die, furious in fight.
"The Choosers of the Slain take half to the Field of the Host, to serve the Lady, Freyja, who, clad in the feathers of falcons, wears the Torc of Fire, driving a sleigh drawn by Siberian tigers—or, in her lighter moments, rides her Battle Boar, sowing devastation among the enemy, when she does not cry tears of red gold for her lost husband.
"And the Wish-Maids take the other half to the Hall of the Slain, to serve Odin, the Lord of Frenzy, the Leader of the Possessed, from whose blood my daughter descends, through her progenitor, Rollo the Walker, while, like his female counterpart, he prepares for Ragnarök.
"No wonder Freyja gives her name to Friday; Thor, who will kill the World Serpent through thunder, takes Thursday; Woden gives his name to Wednesday; and Tiw, who sacrificed his arm to leash the Wolf Fenrir, gives us Tuesday.
"The Norse Gods have a living presence in our world, and Shawn’s friend, because of the stupid decisions that landed him in jail, had time, on a rainy day, to read books and write the letter my friend shared with me, all because he held up a liquor store, spur of the moment, on a dare."
And, as to that living presence, It is a tribute to our true humanity that your father lived as he did, which included bringing up his amazing daughter, who spoke so well of his memory.
Oh Sharine much love and hugs to you. I had to take time to read this in parts between tears and feeling the love you shared, it took me awhile. I had checked in just yesterday to see if I had missed a posting from you. Thank you for sharing your dad’s photo and life,,,, now I know who has been showing up quite persistently,,, he wants you to know is fine, and loves you. Take care,, hugs 💖
Aww, sweet ocean pearl. Thank you for your kind message. I do know that my article was quite long and an emotional ride, since I am the one who lived it, composed it, and edited it! Although, I have to admit that I felt so many *positive emotions* out of love and laughter, not only sadness. That seems to where I'm at, especially experiencing Dad's greetings from beyond.
Earlier today, I was out doing errands, and I stopped at a streetlight behind a Maverick truck! First time, ever! Of course, it was after I had done some banking transactions, and my father loved going to the bank. Oh, Daddy!🤣💖
beautiful remembrances of your father’s amazing life & adventures & messages from heaven!
tears are rolling down my cheek as I read this having learned a few days ago my beloved baby sister has cancer, my thoughts and prayers intensely focused on her healing body-mind-spirit in the name of Jesus Christ … heartbroken
Thank you for your sweet message, kitten. I am deeply saddened by the news about your sister. Healing is definitely possible with the right mind-set and willingness to make lifestyle change💝.
my sister has had a very healthy lifestyle as far as physical activity (avid tennis player & backpacker/hiker), healthy diet, nothing in excess, very balanced.
she is a two time cancer survivor so this will be her third time.
the only unhealthy behavior: being a completely loving, trusting individual… love & trust of which this world has proven itself unworthy.
Oh my goodness. Three bouts with cancer. And I get your point: Being too trusting is not a healthy attribute. My dad was that way with the medical system which killed him possible a decade early. Wishing your sister a third win, and you a gentle time throughout the process. Grace and peace to you both🙏💝.
May God Bless you.
Love always! That was so sad and so lovely.
Dearest Shari--
Thank you for sharing the inspiring story of your father.
He was absolutely a Valhalla Warrior, true Einherjar, just as you are a Valkyrie, and a true Wishmaiden.
I hope you will take it as a friendly tribute, somewhat unrelated but not entirely off point, if I share an invocation to a Norse goddess, who took the form of a pretty cool Playboy Playmate, as I wrote of her, our fight, and Valhalla in my third book (WonderWomen)
"Suzi Simpson was amazing, as she stretched, arms upturned akimbo, woollen mittens cradled behind her head—red, white, and blue to pick up the colors in each of her nordic headband, modern sunglasses, and carelessly aristocratic scarf—gazing sideways, regal into the distance, chest thrust out, to face the camera, large heavy breasts covered by a white turtleneck, which, though loose, did nothing to hide their shape, as her knockers were lifted, cradled, and accented, by navy blue ski-overalls, leg bent, to bring out the womanly curves of her hips.
"Like Skaði, the jötunn born to Iðunn, the Apple Giver, taken by Þjazi, her Eagle Father, flying north to his nest, as Frigga, the Sun- Mother shines, low in the sky, to bless their union, while her skis squeak, scrape, and rattle over the wilds of the mountains, down, through, across, the icy valleys, so her bow sings for prey, the Playmate Goddess stood before the glacier.
"Like my own photos of the Great Land, which sit on my bed table, the pictorial shows clouds, striated by scalar waves, broadcast by the worthless homosexual gnomes, deviant losers that attack our planet, our people, and all life, beaching whales with sonar attacks, leading my daughter away from the snow-sports, all as the slaves play video-games, with ionospheric heaters, hidden, in the Arctic.
"Against the strangely marbled sky, filled with fungus, smeared with smart-dust, Susan-Skathi stands!
"Showing scorn, sending screams, and scathing slaves, her Playmate Hunting Cry calls the Brave to Battle, so I invoke her aid, drinking reborn, singing glad, in Freyja’s Hall, where we prepare for Ragnarök!"
Funny thing is that Susan Singstock, who posed under the name Suzi Simpson, was the daughter of a career naval officer, who spent time in Alaska, while the her issue of Playboy featured "The Swedish Bikini Team."
Anyway, I noticed that the scum killed your dad, doubtless with a strike from a directed energy weapon on 2:25 on 5.22 when he was 88, which is just so very them.
So this reminds me of another Viking bit in my third book, which may fit the occasion, so we do not merely honor your father but we curse the trash that are the enemies of all true human beings.
"My friend, Shawn Garris, whose father, Doctor Garris, served as superintendent of schools, would take interest in Norse mythology, as his friend sent handwritten letters from jail, one of which he shared with me, about the ravens, who appear as Thought and Memory, on the shoulders of Odin, a great man who suffered terribly, as the Illuminati gouged out his eye, before they strapped his body to a tree, fixed with a lightning rod, using primitive versions of the cybernetics, trauma, and electro-shock with which they now entrain people.
"The raven is the bird of blood, corpses and battle, the gull of the wave of the corpse-heap, who screams, hailstorm-dashed, craving his morning steak when he flies to the sea of bodies!
"It is my mildest wish that ravens rend the unburied enemy dead, making sweet cates of their eyes, and weaving nests from their hair, as they enact a right reckoning.
"Since the ravens followed armies, to eat the dead, the daughters of Ragnor Redstocking made the Raven Banner, under which his sons led the Great Heathen Army, and, later, Canute the Great flew a magic pennant of white silk when he won the Battle of Essendune, north of the Danes’ Woods, where he fed the blood-bird with the soldiers of Edmund Ironside.
"The Norse believed the Valkyries assumed the form of the raven, strangely shape-shifting, as the Shield Bearers carry the brave spirits of fallen warriors to one of two mead halls, where they await the Twilight of the Gods, in which they will die, furious in fight.
"The Choosers of the Slain take half to the Field of the Host, to serve the Lady, Freyja, who, clad in the feathers of falcons, wears the Torc of Fire, driving a sleigh drawn by Siberian tigers—or, in her lighter moments, rides her Battle Boar, sowing devastation among the enemy, when she does not cry tears of red gold for her lost husband.
"And the Wish-Maids take the other half to the Hall of the Slain, to serve Odin, the Lord of Frenzy, the Leader of the Possessed, from whose blood my daughter descends, through her progenitor, Rollo the Walker, while, like his female counterpart, he prepares for Ragnarök.
"No wonder Freyja gives her name to Friday; Thor, who will kill the World Serpent through thunder, takes Thursday; Woden gives his name to Wednesday; and Tiw, who sacrificed his arm to leash the Wolf Fenrir, gives us Tuesday.
"The Norse Gods have a living presence in our world, and Shawn’s friend, because of the stupid decisions that landed him in jail, had time, on a rainy day, to read books and write the letter my friend shared with me, all because he held up a liquor store, spur of the moment, on a dare."
And, as to that living presence, It is a tribute to our true humanity that your father lived as he did, which included bringing up his amazing daughter, who spoke so well of his memory.
Your friend always,
Timo
Blessings to you
Thank you, Hunter.💝
Thank you, Hunter.💝
Oh Sharine much love and hugs to you. I had to take time to read this in parts between tears and feeling the love you shared, it took me awhile. I had checked in just yesterday to see if I had missed a posting from you. Thank you for sharing your dad’s photo and life,,,, now I know who has been showing up quite persistently,,, he wants you to know is fine, and loves you. Take care,, hugs 💖
Aww, sweet ocean pearl. Thank you for your kind message. I do know that my article was quite long and an emotional ride, since I am the one who lived it, composed it, and edited it! Although, I have to admit that I felt so many *positive emotions* out of love and laughter, not only sadness. That seems to where I'm at, especially experiencing Dad's greetings from beyond.
Earlier today, I was out doing errands, and I stopped at a streetlight behind a Maverick truck! First time, ever! Of course, it was after I had done some banking transactions, and my father loved going to the bank. Oh, Daddy!🤣💖
You take care and be well, too, friend🙏💝.
♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️Sending oodles of LOVE & ((hugs)) your way♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️
My deepest condolences to you, your family & the people that spent time loving your father.
Such a beautiful & heartfelt testament!! XXooXX
Thank you, sweetie.🤗💝
So beautiful, Sharine, and my heart goes out to you in your loss. But I'm happy that the communication and humor is finding its way to you.
And CovAin't! Excellent. Your tribute in the eulogy, and the way it flowed made sense of this life like a river. Thanks for sharing it.
Thank you, Tereza.🤗💝