Five weeks today since my father died. While trying hard to avoid symmetries and anniversaries and neat lines of days, I can't but admit that it is fitting that I start this blog (properly) today.
My father had said all year that he might not make it past this one. Don't ask how he knew. In his mind, his birthday was a marker and if he made it past it, he might survive.
He didn't. He died on the 3rd of July. Would have turned 71 on the 4th and have been married for 40 years on the 5th.
Neatness must be genetic.
* Everyone knows the rhyme, right?
Posts
8 comments:
Why the horse?
As a kid, I remember being very distressed by the Solomon Grundy poem. I knew it wasn't real, but still..it seemed a very cruel poem (and proportionately, he was ill for so long!)
??!: :-)
Lekhni: Because. And...'ill for so long'?
Yes, they *do* know. My father didn't express it so openly, but I could clearly see it in his eyes.
Love, peace and prayers.
km: Yes, and it's terrible to see. Or at any rate, come to terms with. And thanks.
"Sorry" doesn't help.
I hope he had a full life.
J.A.P.
JAP: Oh, I think so. He didn't have any regrets.
Well, if you counted each day of the week as a decade, then Solomon Grundy was ill for 20 years :(
lekhni: hmm...I suppose so. I hadn't thought of it like that.
Post a Comment