My father died this morning. He was 93. We had the same hair, the same hands, the same temper. The same love of beer. The same competitiveness. In many other ways—most ways—we were quite different.
I’ll be going to the UK as soon as I can get a flight, which means that two of my upcoming appearances—at Elliott Bay Books with Sarah Schulman, and all the events at Orcas Island Book Festival—are cancelled. I’m hoping to get back in time for IONA in Vancouver but I’ll know more about that in a couple of days.
For now, here are two photos of me and Dad. One taken when I was about ten, the other 7 years ago.
Me and Dad on a walk somewhere in about 1971
Me and Dad in 2012
Nicola Griffith 
I’m so very sorry. May the best of memories, bursts of creative and healing energy help you through this.
*SIGH* The words to say what I would like to say will doubtless occur to me long after I comment here, but I’ll try anyway:
My condolences to you, all those you hold dear and all those who held him dear. I’ve been where you are now with both parents and my heart goes out to you. It will be 30 years later this year since my mom and it feels like yesterday. All best.
So sorry, Nicola. I know that kind of grief. All my love to you.
So sorry for your loss.
Dear Nicola,
So sorry. Safe travels.
He must have been quite a guy to have the daughter he had. Traveling mercies.
I feel your pain Nicola !! Please have a safe trip and know that you are loved by so many.
Deepest of condolences. May you have time with the people you love and who loved him to rejoice in the man he was and the best of your memories. I hope it’s somewhat of a salve to the grief and brings peace. And if there were less than stellar ones, I hope you have the time and space to make peace with those, too. Safest of travels.
I am sorry you have lost your dad. I wish you so much love and support as you move through your grief.