My beautiful friend calls late in the evening. Her voice tells me from the first word that something is wrong. Her father died. This passing is a relief. He's been very ill for some time. Still, even when it's expected, even when death puts suffering to rest, it upends us.
When it is a parent who dies, the very earth shifts and you no longer stand where you were. The death of a parent irrevocably alters a key part of who you are, of who you have been your entire life. Until now. Whether you register it consciously or not, you know this to be a marker. You know this to be the end of yet another phase of your life. And you grieve that loss as well.
About Me
- Jan C. Snow
- Since 1984, my light commentary, Marginal Considerations, has been a feature of Weekend Radio. Moving into the 21st century (yeah, I know - a decade late and more than a dollar short), it may be time to explore the format known as "the blog." (Still on the radio, BTW.) I am the author of A Natural History of Socks, illustrated by the late Eric May, You May Already Be a Winner (and other marginal considerations) and The Nonexistence of Rutabagas, plus maybe 1K features, essays, book and arts reviews in newspapers and magazines nearly everywhere, except perhaps Kansas. I live on Lake Erie one city to the west of Cleveland with too many musical instruments, several large plants and no cats. My front door is purple. I collect dust, take up space and burn fossil fuel. I kayak, knit, hike, sing, canoe, write choral music and play hammered dulcimer, but not all at the same time. I read too much and don't write enough, but what's new?
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