Dad and I had the best talks. Both of us philosophical and at times brooding in nature, we would share our deepest thoughts and fears, and try to make some sense of it all. At our best, we’d come up with some pithy maxims. More often they were simply, observations — observations that we hoped would serve us better as we continued to walk the path we called life.
We also shared a love for music, and would often reach out to one another as we found ways to express ourselves through poems, the music of others, the music of our own. I could never play the songs of the greats like he could, but he was my biggest fan as I churned out my own piano babbling. He would pause everything to listen. And so it was that music would transcend what we could ever explain through so many insufficient words.
Now that he’s gone, it’s been hard to know where to put those things. It’s been a year of trying, and it still often feels beyond what I was built to handle. But I’m doing my best, Dad. I’m doing what I can.
i carry your heart with me(i carry it in
e.e. cummings
my heart)i am never without it(anywhere
i go you go,my dear;and whatever is done
by only me is your doing,my darling)
Originally posted on Facebook – 7/28/2024
Muttering Retreats 