Of Time and the River

The title for this post is the name of one of my favorite Thomas

Wolfe books. I trired to reread him recently but didn't get far,

and I'm not sure why. Maybe Thomas will only remain in that

long ago place he resided in when first I discovered him.

Have been thinking a lot about my dad. Last night before bed.

In the middle of the night when I woke up and could not go back

to sleep. Does this great missing ever stop? There are days

in which I have to ask myself if I've thought about him that

day. If I had not up until that point, I certainly was at that point.

Even though I rarely went to see him, I knew what he felt and how

he felt. It was a tacit understanding. No need to explain or reason.

I just miss my dad and know I always will.

My daughter gave me some more Joan Didion for Christmas.

I am reading Slouching Toward Bethlehem. I want to reread

The Year of Magical Thinking. Sometimes I think I am still

in that year. The damage done from 2 deeply disturbing life-

changing events has taken its toll on me. I lost my dad and

6 months later, I lost my job. In between, I received a very

disturbing letter. And within a year of dad's death, two of my

good friends died. I wonder if I'll ever feel right again.

This quote from Joan Didion:

“A place belongs forever to whoever claims it hardest,

remembers it most obsessively, wrenches it from itself,

shapes it, renders it, loves it so radically that he remakes

it in his own image.”

I once picnicked on the banks of the Wabash. I brought

flowers with me, and after eating, threw the flowers

into the Wabash in memory of my father. I watched them

until they floated away out of sight, beneath the bridge

in the picture above. I took pictures that day, and one day,

when my scanner cooperates, I'll post one. Oddly enough,

as I tossed the flowers out, a little at a time, one bouquet

stood straight up in the mud. It landed perfectly, and the stems

found themselves right at home.

They are long gone now. Like so many people I have known.

But nothing will take the memory from me.

At least, I hope nothing will.