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  • It has been seventeen days since I closed my father’s eyes.
    I have begun a journey away from that moment which has become both a monument and a marker.
    Life is going on, spring is happening all around me.
    Dandelions are blooming and the goldfinches have returned. Yellow flowers, yellow birds both arrive together.
    You can hear them among the early morning chorus of birdsong.
    I was splitting wood for next winter and the axe opened up another world inside the log. Ants spilled out and their carved city was revealed.
    Life is everywhere and my eyes are seeing everything.
    My ears are listening to spring.
    I am listening and looking, as if for the first time, now that I know what the last time looks like.
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