A haibun
My Papa died over four years ago; and I wrote a very public series of blog posts on The Times of Israel during my traditional year-long recitation of the “Mourner’s Kaddish” in his honor, as is noted on Papa’s Wikipedia page.
The Skeptic’s Kaddish blog, which you are now visiting, was born of that experience; I’ve written a number of poems about Papa here. That said, my writing of the last three years has mostly not been been about Papa… though the banner at the top remains a photograph of him from one year before his death.
Honestly, Papa wouldn’t have felt comfortable with anything I’ve written in relation to him, nor with his photograph resting atop my blog. He was extremely private and humble.
As time has unfurled, I have been writing less and less about Papa; I am certain he would have been pleased with my shift away from him.
cloudless skies crisp keyboard strokes clack convergence
d’Verse poetics: Dia De Los Muertos
At d’Verse, writers were encouraged to write poems to commemorate loved ones we have lost; the above haibun was written in response.
Let’s write poetry together!
When it comes to partnership, some humans can make their lives alone – it’s possible. But creatively, it’s more like painting: you can’t just use the same colours in every painting. It’s just not an option. You can’t take the same photograph every time and live with art forms with no differences.
–Ben Harper (b. 1969)
Would you like to create poetry with me and have a completed poem of yours featured here at the Skeptic’s Kaddish? I am very excited to have launched the ‘Poetry Partners’ initiative and am looking forward to meeting and creating with you… Check it out!
The Skeptic's Kaddish ๐ฎ๐ฑ 
Helps me realize, we are floating in space. Altogether all together. I love seeing the picture of you dad, looking another direction, this haibun converges back in in a way. lovely.
๐๐๐ป Lona ๐๐ป๐ ~ thanks!
You and I share similar motivations for starting our blogs. I am in awe of how much writing we have accomplished in the process. Healing too. ๐ A lovely haibun, David. Your father’s book is impressive! I feel smarter just flipping through the pages. ๐
๐๐๐ป Michele ๐๐ป๐ ~ thanks, I agree!
It is okay to move away and then back again, David. It makes each return special, and each memory visit an uplift and encouragement. We cannot stay in mourning mode for ever. I enjoy your stories of your father!
dwight
๐๐๐ป Dwight ๐๐ป๐
A beautiful tribute, indeed. I’m so sorry for your loss.
๐๐๐ป De ๐๐ป๐ ~ thanks!
I think it worked this time, posting through the reader. Progress!
๐ค Jane ๐ค ~ hooray!
I still can’t follow you though. WP tells me to use a valid email. Mad.
๐ค Jane ๐ค
You’ve absorbed his spirit. You don’t have to write about him or talk about him all the time. He lives on in you. He would probably have appreciated your upbeat haiku too.
๐๐๐ป Jane ๐๐ป๐ ~ thanks
xxx
Writing is a catharsis of sorts. This is a beautiful post.
๐ค๐๐ป Grace ๐๐ป๐ค ~ thank you!
Not sure why I feel this emotionallyโฆbut I do.Itโs beautifully said, David
๐งก๐๐ป Karima ๐๐ป๐งก ~ I’m glad you connected with it; thank you for letting me know
Very much so….๐๐น๐
Writing about someone like you did was probably a good journey for you.
๐ค๐๐ป Bjรถrn ๐๐ป๐ค ~ yes, I think it was. It changed me…
I am sure your Papa is very proud of you, David.
I would never again suggest that you’re sweet, Dolly, but sometimes your comments are.
โค
David
Ah, David, every time you write about your Papa, I think of mine.
๐ค๐๐ป Dolly ๐๐ป๐ค
That this is an emotional and psychological journey only heightens the haibun form…
โค๏ธ๐๐ป Muri ๐๐ปโค๏ธ
Wow, what an accomplished person he was!
๐๐๐ป Paula ๐๐ป๐