In Memoriam~Lenard Shuman 1944-2007

Today marks one year since my father died. I live in his house and sometimes still forget he is gone. There is always something Ineed to tell him or show him or make for him. Then I remember he is gone and nothing will ever be the same.



Lenard Alfred Shuman was born August 14, 1944 to Alma And Mervin Shuman. He had one brother Merle and they grew up Colusa, California.
Here he is at about 12 years old with more hair than I'll ever get to see on him. These early pictures we recently found on a trip to my grandmother's house. I don't think I'd ever seen him so young before.

My favorite pictures are from his Navy days. I think he looks like he could have been in those World War Two movies.
He's very handsome, and check out the cigarette. He quit smoking after my sister and I were born.
The two guys with him are Paul and Bill, I don't know anything else about them. He spent two years in the service. At his funeral there was a flag draped on his coffin. It sits, folded up in a case in our dining room now.



These are among my favorite pictures of the two of us. I was about two years old in both. Look at the two of us styling 70's. Don't you love the flip of my hair? How about the hirt Dad is wearing.


Pictures are about all I have left anymore. For sme reason I have difficulty remebering my childhood, which becomes harder and harder to stand as more of the people I love die. I want to remember more about him than what he looked like on his death bed, an image burned into my brain after staying beside him the thirteen hours it took for him to die that day. I'd rather remember him like this.

He was very funny, goofy and he drove my sister crazy with teasing.

Dad and I looked alike. I have his eyes and (unortunately) his hair. We were so different yet so alike. He was a Christian Republican and I a Progressive Pagan. Our views clashed so much. But we both loved Hobbies, lots of them, and we were firm in our beliefs. As much as he liked his life I think that he was always hoping that there was more. Just like me.

I miss him so much. My life has been in a holding pattern because for all the independence he taught me I still feel lost without my father there to help me up when I fall. I feel like child so often because I want my Daddy. Sometimes I am angry at him for being gone. Sometimes I worry that he was disappointed in me. Maybe I wasn't a good enough daughter.

I know he loved me and would hate to see me hurting so much, hate even more that I am frozen in place. I miss him so much.

I love you, Daddy.

Is anyone still reading?

It's been awhile hasn't it? A lot happened since May. I got a new job, that I commute to. My Dad died during one very dramatic and painful Sunday in June. Then in October, not only to help my mom pay bills, but so Grandma wouldn't have to live alone anymore, she and I moved in with Mom and Erica, my sister. It's a three bedroom house. I sleep in the living room. But we are dealing with it all and seem to be adjusting.

I haven't done much of anything the past 7 months, except work. Not a lot of writing or crafting, though I manage to get a little in. I don't even get to see people very much, people as in friends, rather than acquaintances. But I am trying to get back in the groove.

I am writing in short bursts, carrying notepaper folded in my pocket during work hours, scribbling bits during breaks. Its not as much as I was doing before last June, but I'll get there.

ANd I found another charity to craft for. It's called The Preemie Project, I really liked making the preemie hats for Save the Children on 06' so I thought I would do it again. If nothing else, it may keep me from wallowing in my own grief and do something for someone with more immediate problems.

Probably the worst part of all these changes is the disconnect I have been feeling from my religion. No doubt, mind you, just a lack of space to practice. I have no privacy, no sacred space and the majority of my books and stuff is in storage. So I am seeking out ways to pick up my practice as best I can. I put an altar on the dashboard of my car where I do my morning prayer each day before my commute. I am finally putting together my Book of Shadows as well. Since I have little spiritual life lately, it makes it very hard to write about it, so my column with Mystic Witch has suffered as well. I intend to write about this vary fact for my next article. I guess the Solitary Witch now gets to learn to practice in new ways.

So I am back and plan on once again chronicling my life, whether or not anyone is around to read it.

Blessings to all,
Agate