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November 1st
We're not Christians and
My Dad's (z"l) death was not graceful.
That's not what is meant by All Saints Day,
But I'm taking poetic license.
Rather, 28 years ago, having declared
To my mom about his daughters:
"Where are the girls? I'm ready to go,"
He plunged into a coma and rattled his final breath
At 11:20ish pm on November 1st.
My friend Lynn's mom of blessed memory died this week
And I made a shiva call last night.
This morning, the symbolism of Lynn's vivid green blouse
Struck me and made me smile.
Lynn's dad, all in gray, sat like a solid mountain of grief
Friends and family, surrounding his foothills.
What did it mean, my being struck by the attractiveness of Lynn,
Her husband, brothers, son, niece and nephew?
Life pushes through, I guess, and I became alert to all of the life
Left behind by Lynn's mom (z"l), who was gorgeous, too.
Lynn is an artist and so was her mother. Lynn's mother (z"l) left a legacy of
Beauty.
My dad (z"l) left a legacy of...God, it was 28 years ago -- so what's still left,
and what's blisteringly fresh about his passing? My dad (z"l), an industrial designer,
who invented games and toys for a living, left a legacy of
Creativity.
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