“Every man moves on,” says my father quietly, and I think he speaks of Santa Claus, “but there is no need to grieve. He leaves good things behind.”
From Alistair Macleod’s “To Everything There is a Season“
At certain times in life, there is too much to rightly say – too much felt, experienced, too many lives intersected, relationships fostered, or memories shared. Attempts to set down thoughts and feelings at a time like this obscure anything that falls outside that declaration; people, sentiments, scenes, and places are erased not for their lack of importance, but because in trying to describe the whole, we inevitably lose sight of the infinite complexities that compose it.
That said, there are the statements of fact to be reckoned with, … Continue reading →