A friend (Sue) remarked that losing a parent is like losing your compass. It is not as easy to find your direction. There is no more generational line between you and mortality.
Tonight, my dad gave me a picture of him that he found in his drawer. When I get a decent scanner or hook up my current so-so one, I'll show him to you. He is about ten and giggling in the picture, ever the consummate pretty boy, one of the reasons why he got the crap kicked out of him when he was young.
He found the picture while flipping through his high school yearbook, looking to find the faces of those who recently died. His clock is running out, and I am losing the path.
As virtous men passe mildly'away, And whisper to their soules, to goe, Whilst some of their sad friends doe say, The breath goes now, and some say, no: So let us melt, and make no noise...
[From John Donne]