Today my father would have turned 77. He died over ten years ago, not quite reaching his 67th birthday. It is somewhat alarming to think that in 16 years’ time I will be the same age as he was when he died. We are not very good at thinking honestly about death. But as I can’t buy into the cultural stories that are supposed to offer comfort, I design my own ritual of remembering my father’s life.
In the shadow of Autumn In the season that invites retreat With red leaves shed like tears To pool beneath The ages old arms Of ages old trees We light a candle We light a candle for you Who loved the flickering promise That dances in the flame’s orange-blue heart We light a […]