And it is today I want to converse with you one more time,

To see you write in fluid cursive.

How did your handwriting stay so beautiful through your

years of medical schooling?

 

You were proud of your script, and I know

your penmanship is an enduring reminder of your devotion

to life-long learning.

You took much pleasure in actively engaging in this process of becoming.

 

And it is today I want to make you proud.

Yet, I know that you are proud regardless of the

shapes and forms that my becoming takes

For you saw beauty in this abstract evolutionary landscape.

 

Even when the tulips were bulbs in the ground

And the birds were flightless and unfeathered,

You watered and fed these lives

For they are intrinsically wonderful and virtuous.

 

And it is today I want your warm arms

to wrap around my petite frame so completely that

I am enveloped in your being.

 

I want to feel your love in the smell of fresh popovers

And the euphony of the birds

stirring from their quiet slumber in the morning.

Your love is a needle and thread stitching intricate patterns,

Looping over and under, under and over with perfect precision.

 

And it is today I want all of you here with me.

You are deep, jolly laughter.

The belly kind.

You are red, glowing rage

and red, glowing passion.

You are my Morfar.¹

 

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¹And occasionally Farfar²

²Despite the desire to be Swedish, we are not Swedish.³ Remembering the distinction between the Swedish words for "mother's father" and "father's father" did not come naturally.

³Said with confidence due to your extensive genealogical pursuits