Dar Williams
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Ashes
Me. In the hotel room. Right before I left for the memorial service.
Y. A photo he sent to me when we were preparing to meet one another.
I feel as if I've dropped a box of marbles on a hardwood floor. They're rolling everywhere. They are my memories of Y. I'm afraid I won't be able to gather them all up, that some will never be found again. Maybe years later, when someone is renovating the house, they'll find a single cat's eye underneath a floorboard and someone will wonder at its significance.
Note from my notebook as I've tried to write down what is happening to me right now.
Death | Grief | mourning | Dar Williams | Sarah Maclachlan | Yehuda Amichai
