As most of you will know by now, the release of Frequent Traveller has been postponed for a few days while we sort out some formatting nitty gritties. I also want to apologise to those of you who had planned on supporting me via Book Clubs etc., I fully appreciate the support and am truly sorry for any inconvenience this has caused you. On this note, for those of you who would still like something of mine to read, please scroll down, I have included the link to two short stories (eBooks) that I have uploaded.
New eBooks aside - I am relieved, excited and reminiscent all at the same time about having the opportunity to put my work up on November 6th. Yes, it made readers happy but it was also my father's birthday. I would love to tell you that he's sitting in his armchair, Kindle in hand and enjoying my eBooks right now but he's not. You see, he died when I was three. I never knew him. Not in the way I would have liked to. I have passing memories of him but we didn't have first days at school, family dinners or other memories that some of us often take for granted.
When I was growing up, there were numerous occasions when someone would share an amusing story of his 'band days', there was my favourite picture of him that is now, tattered and torn but his smile shines through as he is pictured with his favourite bass guitar, there were the jokes about his lanky build and of course, the family pictures that seemed to pause in time. There were also the missing pieces. The random questions that aren't important to the world but would mean the world to any ten year old wanting to know how get through a tough day in school.
On some days, I was angry that he had been taken from me so early. I remember detesting the story of Lazarus, because I felt that God had cheated me. If He could've done it in the Bible, then why couldn't he do it again. I was five and none of it made sense. Sometimes, I'm still not sure it does. Then, there are the days when I know that he has never left, my side. He is always where I want him to be, inside me. After all, I am my father's daughter.
For the longest time, growing up, I sought a way to find peace within myself to know that he will always be proud of me. And then, twenty-three years ago, it happened. My first newspaper article was published on his birthday. I was given direction. I knew how I wanted to spend the rest of my life. But, I was also given obstacles and ended up in several different directions before being pointed back to this one.
Now, decades later, it's more than an honour to be able to show him a little something I have done. Yes, so neither of these books will sell millions of copies. In ten years, people might not even remember anything I wrote but I will and I'll know exactly what his birthday present was on November 6, 2011. A little piece of me.
I am finally where I am supposed to be. I am a writer, using the talents he has shared with me. And to have been able to release more of my writing on his birthday, I know I have been blessed.
So, here's to you Dad. Happy Birthday. With all my love.
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