Posted by Jai on November 25, 2003, at 8:09:20
In reply to Re: Death is so final, posted by geramiemonkey on November 24, 2003, at 12:06:46
My Father
My Dad has soft broad hands with the end of his nails filled smooth and smiling. When he concentrates and listens to what I am saying he lightly raps these nails on the top of the desk in a gentle cascading movement. As a teenager I would sometimes ask him about the meaning of life especially after I had gone out on a rotten date with a boy. I would watch his nails as he deliberated my question.
“Well...” he said as the nails went tap, tap, tap, tap, “I just don’t know?”
He did his best . He always tried. I loved him as if my very life depended on our connection.
Jai
poster:Jai
thread:280706
URL: http://www.dr-bob.org/babble/grief/20030903/msgs/283559.html