My father died in the morning on St. Patrick's Day in 2003 at age 89. Hard to believe that 9 years have passed. Today I was looking at the autobiography that he completed in 2001 and wrote for his only grandchild, my nephew Lee. I am grateful that my first and last communications with my father were positive. All that remains of my father is love.
A friend forwarded this via email:
(photo by am, taken late in the day yesterday, looking to the southeast from my porch)
5 comments:
'All that remains of my father is love'. I feel that too.
I want to listen more generously. My own listening is sometimes tainted with impatience. I love Remen's thoughts on listening.
So many thanks for this post, am.
what a marvelous photo of your father and little newborn you!
I don't know what it's like to lose a parent, yet. I imagine it must feel very strange and lonely at times.
I am doing some active listening with a friend who is losing her father as we speak -- he has begun his dying process and the family is gathered. It's a good reminder, your post, how powerful and important active listening is. Being fully attentive to someone and what they are saying.
Thank you for the good reminder.
Robert and Taradharma -- You're welcome. Glad to be able to pass those thoughts along by way of this blog.
A lovely remembrance, am.
Thank you, robin andrea. It's a tradition now that this week in March you, bev, and I remember our fathers in our blogs, isn't it? Continuity.
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