“There are so many fragile things, after all. People break so easily, and so do dreams and hearts.” –Neil Gaiman.
25 years ago today, my father died suddenly of a massive heart attack. My mother found him, lying face down in the cold and snow in our backyard.
I never got to say goodbye. Never got to tell him how much I love him, how grateful I was to have him in my life, how proud of him I was. How much I adored him.
Still, my greatest consolation is the knowledge that he is now home with the only One who could love him more than I. And I often feel his presence, both him and my mom, and I know deep down that neither of them has ever truly left me, as much as I miss their physical presence…the hugs, the smiles, the laughter.
Shifting the Sun
When your father dies, day the Irish
you lose your umbrella against bad weather.
May his sun be your light, say the Armenians.When your father dies, say the Welsh
you sink a foot deeper into the earth.
May you inherit his light, say the Armenians.When your father dies, say the Canadians,
you run out of excuses.
May you inherit his sun, say the Armenians.When your father dies, say the Indians,
he comes back as the thunder.
May you inherit his light, say the Armenians.When your father dies, say the Russians,
he takes your childhood with him.
May you inherit his light, say the Armenians.When your father dies, say the British,
you join the club you vowed you wouldn’t.
May you inherit his sun, say the Armenians.When your father dies, say the Armenians,
your sun shifts forever
and you walk in his light.–Diana Der-Hovanessian
From the book Beloved on the Earth: 150 Poems of Grief and Gratidude
Thank you, daddy, for leaving me your light.
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