I have been thinking about my dad this week, more than usual.
First, I wondered how much of what remains of someone is an invention of our memories; or what they actually were.
Then, I wondered what he would have said about what my family has become. What he would feel about where my mom is. What he would think of me. I'm older, now, than he was when I was born.
Then, I mourned anew for the moments he never got. He would have loved all my children, but I think the ones he never met would have been the most special to him. They are more like him than I was. I wonder how much they are like the child he buried.
It's not been a great week.