Over a number of months, I reconnected with my father
by shadowing him in his work as an instructor in flight
simulators around Europe. During our time travelling,
conversations sparked surrounding the importance of
mentorship and the fragility of paternal bonds.
Through his career as a pilot, I have associated him
with unfamiliar places; as a result it made spending
time in these environments feel more familiar.
I have been trying to understand him on a deeper level,
in an effort to process my feelings of resentment and
confusion within our turbulent relationship.
Where the Red Ferns Rest
This work reflects on the circle of life, the inevitibility of death as well
as a process of mouring my Grandmother Maggie. After her passing,
the reality of our finite lives was at the forefront of my mind as I found
comfort in the soil. We all come from and end up back in the soil,
in what is a blip on timespace. All we can do is savour each
moment of this bittersweet existence.
Only angels can plant red ferns.
Poetry by Holly Neville, her words encapsulate these sentiments beautifully.
