That Veil...
.
...is thin. It's damned thin. Not that I would have it any other way, at this -- or any other -- time of the year.
I've just had lunch, on this lovely day of yellow leaves and perfect fluffy clouds, with my young friend E. I've been something of a mentor and friend to her since she was in her early teens. She'll turn twenty-three tomorrow. She has called me "Da," which is Irish for "Dad," these many years. Her own dear father died of complications resulting from AIDS when she was about five. We share a fairly consuming interest in the Victorian era, Sherlock Holmes, Jack the Ripper, and theatricals of all sorts. We have also a deep connection with our beloved dead, and we've bonded over that.
We spoke of them today, our beloved dead, while drinking pear cider together. Because of course she is old enough now to have a drink in a cafe with me...hardly seems possible. The sun is warm on a good October day in this city. These are the last few days we'll see of it for a long time, the dark time. These golden afternoons right now are precious, priceless. I bask in their brightness more than in the summer, because I know they can't last.
Would that we had had the foresight, knowing they couldn't last, to bask in the company of our loved ones. Neither E nor I did that. She, because she was a very little girl, and didn't really understand what it meant that her Daddy was dying; I, because my son died suddenly, and the true length and breadth and depth of his death came after the fact.
E's father was a handsome creature, both in and out of drag. I do not have a photo of him to post today. But with him also in mind and heart, I show you some moments in Jake's life.
That's my Aunt Mary with toddler Jake in the first picture. They both loved Jake's "Farmer Says" toy. You pulled the string, an arrow in the center spun round and landed on a picture of a farm animal. Then the recording played the noise that animal makes. Aunt Mary just loved "Baa-aa!" Jake was partial to "Moo-oo-oo!" It kept them both entertained for hours.
The next picture is five-year-old Jake walking in one of the many graveyards on my hometown island. It was a beautiful, sunny March day in 1985.
The last picture is his high school graduation picture, taken in 1998.
It's dark outside now as I finish writing this.
"So dawn goes down today,
Nothing gold can stay."
Time to light candles and sit by the fire.
...is thin. It's damned thin. Not that I would have it any other way, at this -- or any other -- time of the year.
I've just had lunch, on this lovely day of yellow leaves and perfect fluffy clouds, with my young friend E. I've been something of a mentor and friend to her since she was in her early teens. She'll turn twenty-three tomorrow. She has called me "Da," which is Irish for "Dad," these many years. Her own dear father died of complications resulting from AIDS when she was about five. We share a fairly consuming interest in the Victorian era, Sherlock Holmes, Jack the Ripper, and theatricals of all sorts. We have also a deep connection with our beloved dead, and we've bonded over that.
We spoke of them today, our beloved dead, while drinking pear cider together. Because of course she is old enough now to have a drink in a cafe with me...hardly seems possible. The sun is warm on a good October day in this city. These are the last few days we'll see of it for a long time, the dark time. These golden afternoons right now are precious, priceless. I bask in their brightness more than in the summer, because I know they can't last.
Would that we had had the foresight, knowing they couldn't last, to bask in the company of our loved ones. Neither E nor I did that. She, because she was a very little girl, and didn't really understand what it meant that her Daddy was dying; I, because my son died suddenly, and the true length and breadth and depth of his death came after the fact.
E's father was a handsome creature, both in and out of drag. I do not have a photo of him to post today. But with him also in mind and heart, I show you some moments in Jake's life.
That's my Aunt Mary with toddler Jake in the first picture. They both loved Jake's "Farmer Says" toy. You pulled the string, an arrow in the center spun round and landed on a picture of a farm animal. Then the recording played the noise that animal makes. Aunt Mary just loved "Baa-aa!" Jake was partial to "Moo-oo-oo!" It kept them both entertained for hours.
The next picture is five-year-old Jake walking in one of the many graveyards on my hometown island. It was a beautiful, sunny March day in 1985.
The last picture is his high school graduation picture, taken in 1998.
It's dark outside now as I finish writing this.
"So dawn goes down today,
Nothing gold can stay."
Time to light candles and sit by the fire.