Monday, December 20, 2010

You can't always get what you want

My father was my hero and the light of my life. He was tall and handsome but a fragile spirit, and he died at 41. His mother was, or still is, Swedish, from a little place called Trollhattan, spelled with one of those dotted a:s. I always thought of it as a very warm place full of trolls and goblins. Troll-heat. My father laughed and humoured me. He promised me he'd take me there some day, but he never did.

7 comments:

  1. Maybe going there now, you'll feel him in spirit..

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  2. I too feel a pilgrimage should be undertaken.

    Trollhättan.
    [Hold down the "alt/option" key and press the "u" key, then the letter you want the diacritic above.]

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  3. I suggest you visit that place, and stay strong

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  4. Go... take the camera (and one of those irritating Euro power cord adapter thingies too)... and make some memories you haven't yet had.

    Nothing tastes more like revolution than that.

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  5. I am very very sorry about your father. You will see him again someday. Just keep him in your heart for now. :)
    Have a very Merry Christams. ♥

    xx,
    ~Abby~

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  6. Indulge yourself. Go visit. Have a magical Christmas darling. xo

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