I apologize for the lack of substantial content here these past several weeks. There has been so much to comment on — if nothing else, I’ve been missing out on one of the great Schadenfreudefests of modern political history — yet somehow I’ve found it difficult to lift the pen.
Of course this has been due, in part, to the exhausting process, and emotional effect, of my father’s death. (A new obituary, by the way, has appeared in the LA times.) To confront so directly the nearness and permanence of death can take some of the starch out of a person, and can make the temporal affairs of the world — even the great causes and struggles that rouse us to take up arms for the sake of all that we hold dear — seem, in that clear, cold light, nothing more than a rustling of the wind in dry leaves.
Perhaps I just needed a little break. I’m sure this soon will pass.
3 Comments
What … a … surprise.
http://gma.yahoo.com/exclusive-us-may-let-dozens-terrorists-country-refugees-083619354–abc-news-topstories.html
(I do hope the Somali communities of Minneapolis-St Paul don’t take me to be implying anything untoward.)
The last seven years of my mother’s life, she was home bound. The last six months, she was bed bound. The bed sores were so severe you could almost see bone. I went to bed every night hoping that would be her last night, just to end the senseless, pointless suffering.
Still, when she died, I could feel the void. It was like the planet itself changed. Once she lived, now she did not, and that would never change.
I know what you’re going through. You have to give it time.
Thanks, Dom.