A friend's father has just died. It is so very strange and sad, the space where once he was, his sudden and absolute absence.
This piece by Raymond Carver will be on the funeral order of service.
A question for the living to ask, not only in relation to him, but to ourselves. Reminds me of Larkin's Arundel Poem/ 'what will survive of us is love'.
My friend's father knew he was beloved.
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