Kristin, thank you very much for sharing this piece with us. I knew your Dad as he lived in our building and we all adored him ,his sometimes cheekiness , his kind soul, his dignified presence and now learn of his many talents and yes of a life well lived. I am glad you are returning to writing which is so exquisite. my sincerest condolences to you, Mary Anne Ferguson
So beautiful and thought provoking as always Kris. I do believe in eternal peace, his lovely soul flowing amongst infinite others, his job wonderfully done during our momentary time on earth. I can’t wait to read you next post!
So evocative , and yet lyrically and economically packed ( with those words “ busting now to get out”)! I enjoyed reading this for pleasure first, but read again to just admire the style.
Your story resonates with me. My dad passed away in February. Days later, he was cremated. Due to circumstances, his funeral was delayed over a month, which had me contemplating what to do with his ashes in the meantime. BTW - He was a history teacher, WWII buff, and loved split pea soup!
Virginia, glad it felt that way. Thank you for your always kind comments.
Joe, you are a man who understands the “delights” of modern air travel.
Mary Anne, so hoping to meet you one of these days. My father had an eye for the ladies. The MeToo movement passed him by like a scirocco, but for him well he was just paying the ladies the pretty tributes they were entitled to.
Cynthia you make his absence feel more like presence - merci mille fois.
Sue, Alice is in charge of the “economical” and I truly appreciate the “lyrical”.
Susie, so many more questions - crucial to know that so many of us ponder them and are not alone.
Rita, bienvenue !
Kevin, sounds as if you really miss him. My sincere condolences. Death really is weird. Hoping Cynthia’s comment below about a “job wonderfully done” resonates, as well.
I recently visited our family home of 56 years, for my mother's 95th birthday. My great grandparents' portraits occupy favored places along the staircase to the second floor, as they have for many years. I think about them and their stories, wonder about their parents and siblings, those who went before them. They aren't lost to me, although I never met them. They are the foundation of my own life and history. Yes, eventually the details of their stories will be lost to subsequent generations, but they won't be altogether lost even then. Their individual voices will join the chorus of all the ancestors who make up our family and national heritage. I wish I could have known them all individually, but generations have not yet learned how to leave such intricate stories of themselves for their heirs.
Hi, My husband died a couple of years ago and I want to believe that his soul will continue the adventure, that he will reunite with those he loved, and he will be there for us when the time comes.
Hi Janice. Would that I could find the words of comfort that are appropriate for your loss. I know that none are sufficient. Like you however, I want to believe; what I do know is that in the absence of proof but in the presence of hope, I find bits and pieces of loved ones who have left this world in my children, or I see a stranger on our high street who looks like my brother-in-law, I find a line in a novel that evokes my friend who died from breast cancer, and get struck by moment of remembered joy with friends. Small spoonfuls of solace. May you find the same. Kristin
Such a loving tribute! So proudly beautiful that I wish I had known him.
What better place to ponder our morality than 35,000 feet in the air, sitting with strangers, packed like sardines inside a metal tube with wings?
Kristin, thank you very much for sharing this piece with us. I knew your Dad as he lived in our building and we all adored him ,his sometimes cheekiness , his kind soul, his dignified presence and now learn of his many talents and yes of a life well lived. I am glad you are returning to writing which is so exquisite. my sincerest condolences to you, Mary Anne Ferguson
So beautiful and thought provoking as always Kris. I do believe in eternal peace, his lovely soul flowing amongst infinite others, his job wonderfully done during our momentary time on earth. I can’t wait to read you next post!
So evocative , and yet lyrically and economically packed ( with those words “ busting now to get out”)! I enjoyed reading this for pleasure first, but read again to just admire the style.
You ask all the most important and unanswerable questions. Thank you for sharing this moment with your readers.
Beautifully written Alice, felt I was right beside you on that aircraft! 🙏🏻
Oops thanks for the introduction though Alice!
Your story resonates with me. My dad passed away in February. Days later, he was cremated. Due to circumstances, his funeral was delayed over a month, which had me contemplating what to do with his ashes in the meantime. BTW - He was a history teacher, WWII buff, and loved split pea soup!
A lovely, touching story from a very gifted writer.
David you are a sweetheart. Dad’s like you are pretty special.
Virginia, glad it felt that way. Thank you for your always kind comments.
Joe, you are a man who understands the “delights” of modern air travel.
Mary Anne, so hoping to meet you one of these days. My father had an eye for the ladies. The MeToo movement passed him by like a scirocco, but for him well he was just paying the ladies the pretty tributes they were entitled to.
Cynthia you make his absence feel more like presence - merci mille fois.
Sue, Alice is in charge of the “economical” and I truly appreciate the “lyrical”.
Susie, so many more questions - crucial to know that so many of us ponder them and are not alone.
Rita, bienvenue !
Kevin, sounds as if you really miss him. My sincere condolences. Death really is weird. Hoping Cynthia’s comment below about a “job wonderfully done” resonates, as well.
David, see below. Thank you.
I recently visited our family home of 56 years, for my mother's 95th birthday. My great grandparents' portraits occupy favored places along the staircase to the second floor, as they have for many years. I think about them and their stories, wonder about their parents and siblings, those who went before them. They aren't lost to me, although I never met them. They are the foundation of my own life and history. Yes, eventually the details of their stories will be lost to subsequent generations, but they won't be altogether lost even then. Their individual voices will join the chorus of all the ancestors who make up our family and national heritage. I wish I could have known them all individually, but generations have not yet learned how to leave such intricate stories of themselves for their heirs.
Hi, My husband died a couple of years ago and I want to believe that his soul will continue the adventure, that he will reunite with those he loved, and he will be there for us when the time comes.
Hi Janice. Would that I could find the words of comfort that are appropriate for your loss. I know that none are sufficient. Like you however, I want to believe; what I do know is that in the absence of proof but in the presence of hope, I find bits and pieces of loved ones who have left this world in my children, or I see a stranger on our high street who looks like my brother-in-law, I find a line in a novel that evokes my friend who died from breast cancer, and get struck by moment of remembered joy with friends. Small spoonfuls of solace. May you find the same. Kristin