Donna writes:
I brought Wes to this place on one of our last nights in Cranbrook. No trip to this area was complete without seeing the farm that my Dad built and which was the last place where he had lived. I felt it was a way that I could introduce Wes to my Father because it still bears witness to the perfectionist that he was as well as showing Wes a little of how I grew up on "the farm".
Unfortunately we didn't get to see the house that he built but we viewed it from a distance as we drove onto the property turning around at the lower barn area. We sat down at the old out buildings for a bit while I rattled on about the place and all the memories it held.
As we were leaving I asked Wes to stop and take a picture of me at the gates to the property. I was overcome with sadness standing there. The gates were still unfinished and looked exactly as they looked so many years ago. I felt they represented my father in a way. He too was taken from us far too young and left us... unfinished.
I don't know if the present owners ever intend to finish these gates but part of me doesn't want to know. For me they will always remain like this, waiting to be finished, wondering what they would've looked like if they had the chance... just like my Dad.
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