What to do about the holidays, the traditions, the sacred and the profane of everyday life. You don’t have that anymore. You’re gone.
Where to? I don’t know. I know it’s not to that mythical Heaven in the sky, because I’ve gotten on too many planes and every time that I get above the clouds I never see you there. You’ve never been sitting on a cloud. Like they told me in Sunday School all those years ago.
But you’ve gone somewhere. Somewhere we can’t see. And now we have to figure out the every day, without you. Can any day ever be every day ever again without you?
I’m not sure.
This year has been cancelled, due to the empty chair you left behind. When you went to wherever you are. To do whatever it is you’re doing now. We’re still doing too.
But the chair, and the space, and the voice that lived with you are all gone, empty, and silent.
But these are things you do not deal with…
when you are dead.