I’ve been thinking a lot about death, recently.
I know this is not what you want to read, because now you are thinking about death too, and are cursing me for depressing you as you flit happily through the blogosphere: I apologize. This isn’t really meant to be a depressing post, though, or at least I don’t think it’s too depressing.
It’s really more about this – someone got in touch with my family recently, looking to reconnect with a friend, not knowing that friend (my father) has been dead for six years. He was quite shaken at the news, and it makes me remember how shaken we all were – the way it happened, how quickly it changed so many things, the shock of it just being the end.
And now, six years later, this person - and through him other friends of my father – still fresh in his grief, took the time to share stories and pictures of his friend with us. To tell us about the times when our father wasn’t only our father, but also his friend. To tell us the stories my father never got around to telling us, to share the anecdotes that we never shared because we were too young or he was too screwed up or we weren’t as close as we could have been. And it makes me think better of my father - a man who I loved and hated and was too often disappointed in or a disappointment to – it makes me think more of him, helps me to remember the best of him, when I know he once had friends as good as this.
Continue on with your flitting…hope I haven’t brought you down.
Just in case....go
HERE and go drool (or go blind) looking at the adorable baby.