Utopian Turtletop. Monsieur Croche's BĂȘte Noire. Contact: turtletop [at] hotmail [dot] com

Tuesday, July 25, 2006

When my dad goes, I'll have no close connection to his parents any more. His mom died when he was 18 and his dad 10 years later, when I was 3. I have only a few of the vaguest of memories of my dad's dad, but I feel a connection to them when Dad tells stories about them. The stories rarely stick strongly with me; what sticks most strongly is the feeling of love: deep, intense love.

I'd always been aware of how much my dad missed them, but never having known them I didn't think much about what I missed out on. I was close with my mom's parents and they were wonderful and I felt rich in relatives. But now that my dad's time is drawing near, I'm acutely aware of what my own three-year-old will be missing out on. And it makes me imagine what I missed by not knowing my dad's parents.

The breaking of connections: The human condition. For as long as I live I'll have a connection to my dad, but when my siblings and I go, those connections will be gone.
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