I am working on my 5th children’s book. It is about the death of a loved one: Kevin learns how to accept the inevitable loss of his grandmother. I am inspired to address this topic because of personal losses I’ve experienced in the past few years as well as seeing my students (ages 10-13) grieve the deaths of mothers, fathers, and other family members.
I don’t know what is the meaning of death, but I am not afraid to die. And I go on, non-stop, going forward, even though I, Bruce Lee, may die some day without fulfilling all of my ambitions, I will have no regrets. I did what I wanted to do and what I’ve done, I’ve done with sincerity and to the best of my ability. You can’t expect much more from life.
*From Brain Pickings by Maria Popova
After dad passed away, we packed the house up quickly. He collected a LOT of stuff and my mom had thrown these in the trash. My husband retrieved them because he thought they were cool.
In the span of the last 12 months, I lost my father, a very close family friend, and my best friend from college.
This past year has been a deeply reflective period on mortality and legacy.
Lately, I’ve been drawn to dead and dying things in nature. They, like people, are so undervalued in our eyes. Once vibrant and colorful, they continue to feed the earth with their “bodies.”
Here are a few beautiful leaves I saw while on a walk:
and my interpretation:
I believe that the more we live in presence, the less we fear “death.”
Because your father and the Korean War
treated you mercilessly
you swallowed the hate, anger and resentment
with tiny grains of rice and near-clear broth
You read books and taught yourself
math – the universal language
you patched holes in your shoes and clothes
sewed extra material to your pant legs
With marriage and children, hunger multiplied
your craving for recognition and love
were bottomless pits of self-doubt
and utter darkness
You lashed out and your fears
masqueraded as control and power
launched your family away
but your heart cried
come back
Kismet 
