Monday, March 8, 2010

Death, part 2

It's been almost a year. I did not know what to expect about the effect of my father's passing away, and it has been a year. I functioned, and did what I would have normally done in the past year. But I retreated from writing here, and only now can I see the major reason was my reaction to the loss of my father.

When I groan I hear the sound of my father's voice, when I look in the mirror I see his face. I am who I am, and in many ways I am him.

We are where we come from. I can point to many things that are different; he and I were so different in so many easy to define ways. But yet we are the same in so many underlying and unobvious ways too. Is there a difference between us? Yes and No. Which means, of course, not much.

Nothing like the death of someone close to you to bring one's own mortality into close focus.... How many years do I have left. How will it go, how will it end. All sorts of unknowable questions. All unknowable answers.