It's a year since my dad died. I still think of him often, especially when I'm listening to classical music. During the last years of his life his Morningside flat was rarely silent, invariably filled with the sound of an instrument or the human voice coming from the radio or from one of the hundreds of CDs he couldn't resist buying and which I've happily inherited. It wasn't until he died that I realised that the death of a loved one doesn't merely rob you of their physical presence but of part of yourself - the lifetime of experiences you shared with them - people, places, events, sights, sounds ... My dad was the last link I had with much of my past in India and Edinburgh and that link is now broken forever. There are memories I shared with him and no one else, and now not even him. Thankfully they are overwhelmingly happy ones.
The other thing I've realised is how much of him lives on in me, and my sister and our children - not just in our physical appearance but in what we believe, how we treat other people, what makes us laugh, the things that matter most to us. He was a good man and I hope I'll do him proud.
Beautiful post.
ReplyDeleteWhen my father died of cancer (some 16 years ago), he refused to accept he was dying and so we never had an opportunity to discuss to have a "real" talk about "life stuff"! It's something that I still very much regret. Sounds as if you were more fortunate with your father and that, although your links with Edinburgh and India might be broken, there is much of your father (and the things that mattered to him) that lives on in you.
hugs
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