Reading · the examined family

Last week was one of the most sacred and arresting times of my entire life. My dad died Thursday. I’m still figuring out what to say about it and to whom. For now, please know how grateful I am to this incredible community for creating a space where I could share the journey and be greeted with such insightful, whole hearted, and cathartic responses. If you haven’t yet met my dad through my writing, you can learn more here, here, and here (and there’s a lot more where that came from in the archive.)

A pastiche of what made last week so beautiful:

A fig I picked in the gorgeous yard at Elder Ashram and ate.

The heron I saw in our local neighborhood park the morning he died — graceful and lanky, just like my dad.

A poem from *The First Free Women*, a gorgeous collection of poetry by Buddhist nuns translated by Matty Weingast.

An apple crisp I inexplicably made for my eldest daughter at 8am.

Flowers my dear friend cut from her yard and brought to me.

Watching 80s movies with Della and Maya.

More to come…

My sweet papa is dead

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