Author: M

#0094 A Forever Eulogy

A Forever Eulogy

The pair of swelling eyes looked straight up without really looking. What rolled down from either ends of the almond features passing throbbing temples and songless ears wept right into a shapeless pillow of silver silk and white lace. After a moment I curled up to big bear and sobbed endlessly harder. Nerves that awoke with long ago memories had made splendid an otherwise silent and lonesome night. It was the remembering of my father. A candid man. A perfect man. A man that was not particularly marvellous or showy at anything. Father was ordinarily good, optimistic, moral but not the least self-conscious or -righteous. He was to me what I am now and forever to the world. A gentle intimacy at a distance. Aware but unknowing. Respect and the oldest kind of love unpronounced and far in the background but nevertheless present and benevolent. Easily taken for granted. The only person that has deep resonance to my being has long been gone. It has been very lonely that way. Memories and shared interests inherited from my beloved, all of unique timespace, at once insignificantly significant and innocently grand: sat on carpet floors in the corner of books upstairs minding pages of illustrated stories…, some particular kind of hospitality, experiencing the home and garden in reserved views of solitary wonder, taking walks, even a signature foolish conviction of a generosity. His death was the first my heart hurt with grave brokenness. But it became a matter of resilience because confusingly I felt the most beautiful sadness in that unfamiliar expression of regret for which I’d then fallen and from which I’d eventually learn to forgive. And I’d continue tending that facility of forgiveness with every heartbreak. I think truths have that power. Heartbreaks from life’s love affairs continue to hurt me, and deeply, but I am always made braver and more understanding somehow. Perhaps father, in his passing, gave me a last and lasting safeguard. As a daughter’s hero and life-long protector. I hope it means his death is the renewal of his beautiful heart into some immortal impression. That winsome man with at times harmless even endearing wreckage. This daughter’s heart is brave, brave to handle all of her life’s heartbrokenness with generosity and cheerfulness, with the generosity and cheerfulness a good special man’s incorruptible sense of paternity has inspired. Rest in good peace sweet father. I send my love to you in eternity. And a good bottle of Canadian whiskey.


Your daughter

#0093 The Great Gatsby

I wrote to self from the past
and I treasure her letters

I spoke to self from the future
and I am guided by her voice

I am grateful for you Magna

FORGIVE AND FORGET
THANK AND REMEMBER

ETERNAL LOVE :
THE GREAT UNKNOWN