You may have noticed that I have been gone the last few weeks. My father fell ill. And of course between hospital visits and tending to my mother this blog was not a priority. And last week, he took a turn for the worse and passed away. This was unexpected, even with his illness, a nasty auto-immune disorder, we were told to expect 3-5 years, and the day he passed, they were getting ready to release him. In short, it was a shock.
As you can imagine, I have been reeling. Being close to your parents is a double-edged sword. I had 28 years of an amazing relationship but in its absence the void is staggering.
I was reminded at his visitation, but several of his friends that of all the things he loved about me, most, perhaps was my artistic drive. As one said, “don’t stop writing…” and even my father is his last months told me I was the artist he always wanted to be. So after a week and a half of sitting around crying and mopping, I’m going to do what I do best, carry on and increase my drive to get my art out there in memory of my father with of course a good mingling of crying and mopping in between.
And because I think this is appropriate:
Do Not Stand At My Grave And Weep
Do not stand at my grave and weep
I am not there. I do not sleep.
I am a thousand winds that blow.
I am the diamond glints on snow.
I am the sunlight on ripened grain.
I am the gentle autumn rain.
When you awaken in the morning’s hush
I am the swift uplifting rush
Of quiet birds in circled flight.
I am the soft stars that shine at night.
Do not stand at my grave and cry;
I am not there. I did not die.