Some thoughts on this August 18, 2017: an anniversary…
What would you say to me today, on your 81st birthday,
if you were still speaking,
I cannot know that; nor, maybe, could you.
Because the trajectory change required to skirt the illness that took you at away at 74 would have altered your person as much as your passing.
Only after you were gone could I see how little I knew you at all.
And this is all for the best; if I cannot know who you were, are, or would be, I cannot attempt to please you or be you.
I must be myself,
and please myself
…and the Light inside.
The Light behind you all those years, as I stood in your tall shadow—
sheltered, yes, but also stunted; at little too cautious, and a little too certain–
It was an eclipse of the self.
Now the direct Sun may be strong, but I have learned its language,
and I shine back.
This started even while the Light still flickered your eyes, shone molten through the cracks in the disintegrating curtain of your form.
That Light illumined us both as it subsumed you,
as we three reaffirmed the plan we must have made long ago, as One.
Then, as we must have agreed, on January 7, 2011, I was left holding a thread…
…the thread with which to weave onward,
coaxing it from some mysterious spool in the invisible center of everything, coaxing it,
with humble prayer,
and celebrating it,
in every triumph of truth and beauty—in the sky, in song, or in Man.
To thank you today, I must turn and face myself, and bow.