My father died early in the morning on April 29th. We had very little warning.
He had a rich, full life and was loved by so many people. It is a constant ache in my life now that he is gone.
I took this picture the morning of his funeral in Kentucky. I was sitting in my mother's bedroom being all distraught, and she said "I'm going to go cut you a rose; I think you need one." So she did--one of the really fragrant floribunda roses that grows at the corner of the porch. (I'm not sure whether she thought I needed cheering up or that my outfit was way too somber. I was the only one in all black, but then I wear all black an awful lot. I work in NYC after all.) I pinned it at the collar and wore it all day. I still have the dried petals and they still smell.
I was still pretty distraught when I decided I'd take this picture of the rose and my father's photo. As you can see he was a really handsome man--movie-star handsome. And my mother looks pretty awesome, too. They were an incredible couple. I'm so glad, after my first fears for her, that she seems to be handling things pretty well.
Needless to say, this event threw me for a loop for a couple of months. But I'm recovering.
You just never have all the time you think you're going to have.
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