My father died one year ago today.
I am feeling sad. I just posted a long entry in my LiveJournal about it.
Why must people die on beautiful autumn days? And why must those days be so achingly beautiful in subsequent years?
We're still planning to plant apple trees in his honor, in our backyard. Two heirloom organic trees. I also have some of his garlic harvested from last fall and am going to try planting it this year. I have parsley from his garden that I dried and cook with frequently.
How do we keep people alive? Memories? Keepsakes? Photos? Words? My father lives on every time I gaze upon a tree fluttering in the breeze or waterfowl in flight or a pond glittering in the sun. Dad was about living things: growing them, hunting them, observing them, surrounding himself with the cycles of nature. I am thankful for the path he taught me to follow, even as I know there must be a thousand things I have forgotten. I wonder how his friends and other family members cope with his loss. I hope they can find warm thoughts of him everywhere on this day.