This month marks four years since Dad passed. I don’t like to linger on thoughts of his death too often; it’s easy to let myself sink into sadness. But sometimes the universe likes to nudge me, knowingly, and sometimes I listen.
You taught me the courage of stars before you left,
Sleeping at Last, “Saturn”
How life carries on, endlessly, even after death,
With shortness of breath, you explained the infinite,
How rare and beautiful it is to even exist.
Gwen asked me for a “lullaby song” to go to sleep tonight, and this one came to mind. It always reminds me of Dad; how we’d stand outside during meteorological events, watching the sky together.
That feeling of smallness against the vast canopy of darkness and stars and planets is comforting — knowing that we’re all temporary space dust, that my problems don’t even register on a grand scale, that I don’t need to have all the answers. Contemplating infinity imparts perspective; it’s like meditation, but all I have to do is look up.
Thanks, Dad, for reminding me to look up once in a while.