Goodbye, Dad

I love you

My father, Doug Bell, died on June 24. He had been in the hospital in Boston for quite some time (over 100 days in intensive care), and my brothers and I flew back and forth to visit him. We had the chance to share memories and love.

Here are some memories of him that I read at his Celebration of Life last week and would like to share with the world.

For Dad

You led the way for us in moving to Prince Edward Island. You wanted a place of your own to grow and sell plants, so we grew up there. Every March break, with our fingers in the soil, transplanting plugs from one pot to another. Oh, how we groaned, and oh, how we loved it.

You took us to water and taught us to fish, fried up our catches, and made our clams into chowder. You showed us the creatures that lived all around us. You helped us grow our own gardens. We tried to remember the names of those plants!

You were proud of your acres and always sought knowledge, turning the TV to the Discovery Channel – when it wasn’t on Star Trek. You loved the distant stars and the land beneath your feet. I’ll never forget the night you showed me the Northern Lights.

I had my first business at the greenhouses, “down below,” selling second-hand toys. You did all the work. I had one of my first jobs at the greenhouses, caring for plants, helping with the landscapes that made our community sparkle, and talking to customers, where I saw their appreciation for what you did.

You had a witty, punny sense of humor, and there were times I appreciated it less than others. Like when you made up a song about my goldfish: “I love Louise, she tastes real good with cheese, the best thing about having a fish is that they don’t get fleas!”

After separating from my mom, you travelled alone for a while, catching fish, rowing boats, enjoying the outdoors, using the practical skills that you knew. I’m glad you got to see new places and old ones you loved. Florida’s a lot warmer than PEI, not to mention it has key lime pie!

We were lucky to have time with you in the hospital this year, to say the things we wanted to say to each other. You said “I love you” almost as much as you asked for ice chips. We were lucky to have the life we did, and lucky to have you in it. You remembered everything. Now we’ll remember you.

A lady slipper (his business was Lady Slipper Gardens), and me with Dad