Posts Tagged ‘On death’

Life burns.

Consumes, invigorates.  Paradox.

Death is cold, empty.

My father passed away suddenly two weeks before the Keeper.  Hard spring.

The day before my father’s service, I stood at his gravesite.  Plywood pieces rough over a clean rectangular hole.

A glance into the grave.  The earth — deep, alive and waiting.

Next day, nearing the open casket of my father, I felt the nothingness. Waxen facade drove home the vivid perversity of preservation.

At the cemetery, staging, 21-gun salute, veterans who knew how to deliver death to the bereaved.

My father died at the end.  My friend died in the middle.

Life is a fist-sized beating heart. When it is done, so are we.

Live wire,  get it while its hot.


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In the span of a lifetime perhaps we are lucky enough to know a handful who count.  Not to say that all others are without meaning, but simply, real keepers are few.

To the Keepers we entrust soul and story, sadness and sweet wisdom.  In turn, they hold, know, witness and Keep.

Keepers can be old or new, but oftentimes they appear at the beginning, willing and able to share the elusive and changeable quality of Time.

Like the venerable Oak, they offer shade, support, silence and deep conversation decade after decade.  Because they Are, we can Be.

A brilliant Keeper in my life passed away suddenly just a week ago today.  Mortality is a deep flaw of the Keeper.

With him went the better part of me, which he had been slowly returning to me after long years in a poorly made marriage.  For I knew him long before.

I do not believe I kept his life as he kept mine.  I have not that depth, and his support of me was not exclusive.  The Keeper loved and mentored many.

The Keeper was a truly great man, one much needed.  He is gone too soon.

Yet he is not.  The Keeper is out there, in the wind, moon and stars of the Big World.  For that is very much his Nature.

For he was, and forever will be, a keeper.

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