4/10 2:00 a.m.
This early morning 11 years ago, Vicki and I were sitting vigil at our father’s hospice bedside. Our other brothers and sisters were making their own desperate journeys to be at Saul’s bedside. I don’t remember who spelled me in the morning. Maybe it was Mom, because I know she didn’t leave his side from that point forward.
I went back to the house, showered and fell into an uneasy sleep. I got up, fed the grandkid hoard and drove back to the hospice. The sky was gorgeous, streaked with fingers of light. I remember it made me think of Homer. I must have passed his soul in transit because by the time I got off the elevator my sister met me. We hugged desperately. He’d passed while I was in transit. It was Good Friday too. I have no energy to write. Words which usually come in torrents betray me like I’ve got Trump syndrome.
Dad would’ve been 93 in March. Saul M. Weiss 3/9/1927-4/10/2009
4/11
My father passed last night 11 years ago and he is much in my thoughts as is the vigil my sister and I sat with him the previous night. The spirit of creativity that I rely on has flickered, fallen mute, but my camera is a little black box the size of a human heart.
In it, I’ve placed the spirit of my father, the technical/scientific photographer who even beyond death, has guided me to a closer examination of the wonders around me. He saw the micro and the macro. He would have never called himself “an artist” but he would readily accept the appellation “Teacher” or “Mentor” as he was both. He not only raised me, his son, in his craft, but he supported a city full of medical school instructors who in turn used his slide library to teach generations of young doctors.
I know I’m not the only one whose restricted path has taught him or her to look closer at the intricate details that surround us. One friend in Argentina, prevented from returning to her husband in D.C. has discovered a universe on her family’s roof deck. I get it and when she posts, I step outside myself and see a tiny, intricate world through her eyes. I need to step outside myself. I’ve had so many dark, isolated thoughts lately. I used to see beauty everywhere. And it’s still there. I’m just not seeing it.
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