10 years, to the place where I died
Seems like yesterday: ten years have disappeared in a flash. And yet, a hint of grief is as fresh, now as it was then.
Before dawn, I swear I heard his voice calling out to me. The official pronouncement: 610am, 9 August 2014. Ken Lee, dead at 82. I was afraid I had already forgotten his voice.
Northern summer will always have an air of finality, tainted by memories of frailty and inevitability: entropy at its absolute finest.
One day, I’m on the well-travelled stretch between Mannheim and Cologne, fiddling between an online ticket for an express train and an online (Deutschland-) ticket for the next regional train.
The next day, I’m in a Vancouver cemetery on a late Friday afternoon. I see only two to three other visitors out here. It is almost mid-August. Sun’s out, it’s almost 30C. Somewhere outside of this green patch of stone, metal, and flowers, life thrives and goes on. For me, I’ve come back to get “stuck”; I might as well be 8000 km away, back on the other side of the planet.
I made the photos above with an iPhone15 on 9 Aug 2024. This post composed with Jetpack for iOS appears on Fotoeins Fotografie at fotoeins DOT com.
Fotoeins Fotografie 
2 Responses to “10 years, to the place where I died”
There is just no age that insulates us from the pain of the departure of our parents, is there? I’m sorry for the ten year milestone of that loss. I feel these things keenly as well.
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Hi and thanks, Val. I know the pain of loss never really goes away, but what’s incredible to me is the speed by which these ten years have passed. I’m also sorry for your loss.
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