Tuesday, June 12, 2007


Daughters, kiss your fathers.
After the deaths. I studied extensively on grief and the coping mechanisms. The duration of "healing", of "filtering". I believe I read something from Kuebler-Ross explaining that when an individual experiences two deaths near one another, the individual can only mourn one loss at a time. The average cycle of mourning an individual close to you runs about 2 years. Depending on the individual of course.
I scoffed at that thought. 4 years of grieving? Ridiculous. I am too young to waste such time.
As of late, the rose gardens in Hayakorn park are a friendly reminder of my father. Last weekend in Jerusalem, there was a rag-time band playing in a square, near the market, The duo were wearing red-striped vests, one being what Santa would look like in the summer. "My dad would love this!" I tell P Bonez. We stroll down Jaffo street and a violinist is playing with a keyboardist. "Oh, if dad could see this, he would stand until they finished their session!" I mention again.
The elderly men on their bikes through the park are quick images of my father zipping past me.
As my brother mentioned: I miss his direction. I miss the "Susi darling, I'm proud of you" and the "stop being so hard headed O'Daughter of mine and be responsible, when I was walking 12 miles in the snow as the Americans were bombing Berlin, I never had such thoughts."
I am finally making decisions on my own and would give all my life savings for a drop of my father's presence. Just a drop of it. It's quite lonely without him in this world. A world he seemed enjoy the beauty of. I guess this is what entails in growing up, being able to miss something or someone and still go about your daily life, and keeping your daily light burning.


At 6/12/2007 7:49 PM, Blogger cornflake girl said...

Tears are officially in the eyes.

At 6/15/2007 5:39 AM, Anonymous bess said...

Susi, my love. Your memories of love support and guidance are the key here. A life lived well would only leave those kind of ripples on the great pond that is ones life. So many of us take our life for granted. Maybe you learned long ago that life is this sunset; this moment; this color; this laughter. Your father's zest for life lives on in you.


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