(no subject)
There are moments when our lives change irrevocably, for better or for worse.
The Crossroads.
The Formative Instants.
For me, the first of those was October 17th, 1989.
There are things death doesn't change. For instance, I still love my Dad. I still think of him. There is still a segment of my life set out for him.
And yet, he has been erased from physical existence, except in fragments - pockets of time and photographs. There were more mementoes of him once, but the Fire ate them.
In life, he was bound by other people's idea of him, and their demands, and the burdens of thier pressures and obligations.
In death though, he is boundless, unweighted. This pleases me.
He inhabits the silence and air and light; music and old closets, the fins of fishes and the flights of ravens and owls.
The Crossroads.
The Formative Instants.
For me, the first of those was October 17th, 1989.
There are things death doesn't change. For instance, I still love my Dad. I still think of him. There is still a segment of my life set out for him.
And yet, he has been erased from physical existence, except in fragments - pockets of time and photographs. There were more mementoes of him once, but the Fire ate them.
In life, he was bound by other people's idea of him, and their demands, and the burdens of thier pressures and obligations.
In death though, he is boundless, unweighted. This pleases me.
He inhabits the silence and air and light; music and old closets, the fins of fishes and the flights of ravens and owls.