Eighteen years seems like a long time, almost a generation. That's how long ago and far away my lovely father died. And yet he is often present in my life. His essence may be evoked in myriad ways, e.g., memories, Piglet, old friends, particular places, QPR, certain movies, music, and photographs.
Here's the thing, and it's happened a couple of times now. Sometimes he pops up in photos unexpectedly. For example the shot above we saw first in the Shoah museum in Washington DC. It is a Jewish Schools Sports Day c. 1937, in Berlin. We looked at it briefly as we walked by, and then my mother exclaimed, IT'S ALBERT! Bottom right-hand corner with the glasses. That's him.
Today I was once again looking at images from the 3rd march from Selma to Montgomery in 1965. I've shared previously some shots that vindicated my father's claim that he was close enough to MLK to have a chat and share a snack. This time I had a look at some video footage I found online.
Would you believe it, there he was again! Blink and you will miss him, but near the end (just below the YouTube arrow in the screen grab above), pale and bespectacled, his face appears briefly right behind Dr King.
I'm not ascribing any great meaning to this. But I do find it comforting to see him giving me a little wave now and then.
The loss is not so acute after 18 years, but he is still profoundly missed. On a quotidian level, just being able ask questions or to share things I've done, or to get a hug; and in terms of life, the universe, etc., to hear his thoughts on all that's going on in the world these days.
Meanwhile, I was able to visit the graves of both my parents last week. L & I said kaddish, and spent some peaceful time there amid the stones and the roses.
HaRav Uri ben Alexander Ziskind v'Sara Dina, zichrono livracha.
[If you cannot click the video, you can copy & paste this link: https://youtu.be/fgywPx6Cv-g ]
