He was light-waves to others and light-particles to me. My relationship with him was one way, the relationship he had with others, outside of the family, was completely different.
As much as I’d like to believe I’m always the same person, maybe I’m not. Maybe all of us are several or many different people at once. When my father died it was fascinating to hear what he had meant to other people, and that their experiences had little connection to mine. Nice piece, old friend.
Thank you for this poignant, honest reflection on life, death and the in between. Coming to terms with who a person is after they are gone is a life long struggle, at least for me. The tension between my good memories and the sometimes not great reality needs to be held loosely.
As much as I’d like to believe I’m always the same person, maybe I’m not. Maybe all of us are several or many different people at once. When my father died it was fascinating to hear what he had meant to other people, and that their experiences had little connection to mine. Nice piece, old friend.
Thank you for this poignant, honest reflection on life, death and the in between. Coming to terms with who a person is after they are gone is a life long struggle, at least for me. The tension between my good memories and the sometimes not great reality needs to be held loosely.