First and 10

A friend suggested I start this blog to both honor my Dad, O. Gail Poole's life and work, and to serve as an outlet for my grief and comprehension of his loss. Dad was a painter, and a damned fine one.  He was born in a small town in Oklahoma in 1935 and died in a larger sized town in Oklahoma on April 13, 2013.

There are so many thoughts and words and stories trying to come out at once...I don't know where to begin.

In mid-March, he thought he had a bad flu. I came back to Oklahoma earlier than my usual spring trip to look after him, and after endless trips to doctors, labs, specialists and hospitals, Stage IV bladder cancer was discovered.  He died 3 weeks later. I'm pretty sure there will be an angry post about incompetence in the medical profession at some point, but for now, just the facts, ma'am.

As I write this, I am in Paris, fortunate enough to be with my partner, Michael, who has work here until November.  Surrounded by such beauty in a foreign culture will, I hope, give me a certain sense of perspective.  I have some of Dad's ashes with me and I penuriously drop them from time to time when I'd like to think of him with me.

I have extreme moments of what I call "The Daddy Saddies," and as I'm having a pretty big one now, I'll sign off for the time being. But whoever you are reading this, I can't wait to show you his paintings and tell you about him.


Paris, 20 July, 2013