Memorial

My mother found something this week we knew would appear someday, but, sitting at my desk on a warm spring morning, I was taken by surprise. She found the audio recording of my father's memorial service. I've been asking for years to have that burned onto a CD.



There's only one person I could imagine being in the room with, listening to that after seven years an a couple months. The one whose hands were the softest thing I felt the day my father died.


I can't call on that company.



I need to be alone.




I don't know when my mother will have it available. Having found it, she won't lend it probably. And I don't know how long it will take her to hit a retail outlet to have copies made for me and my brother.







My brother and I both spoke at that service. People were so kind, so beautifully honorable. A colleague of dad's I actually worked with myself, who said to me