Last week my father passed away after a long illness. He was 86 years old. His wish for most of his years was to live to the ripe old age of 90 years. I do not think that in the end he regretted not making it, for after much hard work, and much shedding of skins he was ready to pass into the light.
I spoke at his funeral. There were many things I could not speak of but I spoke of his last few years after a major stroke left him crippled and bedridden and the internal work he completed during that time. He had imperfections like all of us; they were part of the man, they made him human. We are all flawed and when we are remembered we want to be remembered whole, imperfections and all. Otherwise it is not real, just empty mouthings from people who did not know us.And being known and being seen it how we find meaning and connection with others.
As Leonard Cohen said "there is a crack in everything, that's how the light gets in." Such a poet.
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