My father was diagnosed with esophagus cancer in September, and lost his life to it on March 27. I read that his kind of cancer was an especially aggressive one, but I’m still reeling from it happening so quickly. He was only 64.
Whatever I was thinking of writing about on this blog next seems unimportant right now. And the petty bickering on other pagan blogs also seems pretty stupid and pointless when real problems come up.
This weekend I’m going to have to go to his house to start going through his belongings with my sister figuring out what we want to keep, donate, or sell. I’m really not looking forward to it.
My dad wasn’t religious, but he wanted to be cremated, and for his ashes to be sprinkled on top of Pike’s Peak so he can “become part of the mountain.” My sister and I will honor his wishes this summer when it gets warmer up there.
This time of year, around the Spring Equinox and Easter, is one of the prettiest times of year, with so many flowers in bloom. It’s so incongruous with what’s going on in my own life.
Goodbye Dad. I love you.