This morning, I informed yet another set of community members of my father’s passing, and we exchanged pleasantries over bacon and eggs, which was nice, but generally within standard procedure. But one elderly gentleman surprised me with a question: “were you close or estranged?”
I answered with something about that liminal space in between, sharing a little about the tensions of being back home over Christmas knowing that it would be the last, trying to deepen the connection but failing. He offered a coffee date to talk about it 1-1 some more, if I wanted, and shared a little about his own experience with that, from long ago: “dads can be so difficult.” It was nice.
But it was the question itself that I appreciated most. It broke the pattern. It gave us permission to go beyond the social ritual. It was transgressive.
More conversations, more permutations of a thought or two, more ways to turn the crystal and watch the light scatter. And these posts have been the closest to a diary I’ve never kept.
I see the undulations of mood and manner radiate from my lens, as I continue to enjoy the luxury of another means to do more of the same; to turn the crystal and catch the light. To enframe meaning around the banal happenings of the day.
Many months ago, someone here caught me off-guard with a comment about my photography: how it was cool and detached, almost inscrutable, and how that finally made sense in the pale light of my Aquarian moon. I see that too, though I wouldn’t call it cold; my eye simply declares “behold.”
But there are days when I’m on a walk and I’m roiling with inner tumult, and I’m beginning to see the slight difference when a camera is in my hand; the heat of my “cancerous” sun bubbles under the surface.
I bid on this used Lumix LX10 because I really wanted a pocketable camera of decent quality that I could keep on my person more often, and I’m really glad I managed to snag it for a bargain price. It’s been a good friend during this time.
There’s a lot to be grateful for today. I won’t go through the list; I don’t really want the feelings to spill over. I’m simply stating the fact: there’s a lot to be grateful for today.
In a couple of hours, it will be a week since my father took his last breath and gave up his spirit. This is simply another fact. His work here was finished.
And as for us? I keep thinking of that lyric I heard on one of those broody walks this week: it felt like the end, but the fact remains, it was only day one.