A Season of Grief.

It has been nearly two months since my father died, and his funeral and memorial are now over. The memorial was lovely, and we saw family in from all over the country. Several cousins I haven’t seen since childhood attended and it was good to see everyone. I’m finally ready for this to be over though, and return to my regular life. My father is gone. I don’t know what it’s going to be like, and what sudden paroxysms of grief and guilt and loss and sadness are likely to arise. But I know they will come.

I was afforded the honor of giving the eulogy. I thought about it for weeks, and jotted down notes from time to time. In the end I didn’t know what to say and just spoke. I told stories, and focused on the things my father did well. Teaching me to play chess. To swim. To take time for pleasure in life.

I am doing well and my life is good. I have had little to say here recently. Perhaps I’m done.