In death there are walnuts

dad sailing
David Fulton – Captain of his ship

As I lay quietly on the couch, Ellie sweetly put her hand out and told me to “take one.” It was a small chopped walnut. I smiled and said, “You know who used to love walnuts?” “Who?” “My Dad,” she knows him as Grandpa Fulton and sadly they never met as he passed in 2004 long before I was ready to think about babies. Still, she knows his original artwork on our walls and that the classical and Spanish music that often plays through our house is from him. She sees him far out on Lake Ontario on a windy day sailing bravely toward the western sunset. Thankfully, there are many influences around us that are definitely owing to Grandpa Fulton. However, the walnuts were a new association for her but she quickly whispered in my ear, “I have a message for him. Tell him when he’s not dead anymore he can come to my house for walnuts.” I squeezed her knowing this response and so much else that she says and does would liven his mood and draw out that catchy giggle through his nose which was contagious; spreading quickly and continues to catch her ear.

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