Death of a loved one disturbs the relationships that sustain a person’s sense of ‘identity’ and the high level of binding and cathexis concentrated on the person who is lost is suddenly disrupted . . . there is a close link between the doctrines of egolessness and suffering.
De Silva, Padmasiri. An Introduction to Buddhist Psychology. Landam, MD, 2000.
Through this lens of Buddhist thought, I begin to feel a crumbling of a child’s self with an understanding of how my father’s absolute and final absence from our lives disrupted the multiple relationships between my father, mother, sister, and me. Besides the sudden severing of the identity I was forming via my father, the connecting emotional threads between those of us that were left, although still intact, were unknowingly stretched and pulled by our own individual fears of egolessness.
My father’s death left my mother, a young woman deaf from infancy, with two daughters and pregnant with her first son. I do not recall whose idea it was to wander outside the house early that morning as my mother slept. I can, however, imagine my young self following my older sister as if an invisible thread that tied us together tugged me along as she, with her five-year-old world view, undertook an emotional duty to find our father. Did we believe we could find him fly fishing in the creek that ran alongside the house? Or was there something about the water that enticed us into abandoning our search? I can recall to this day the cessation of anxiety and arising rapture that coincided with my surrender to the inevitable. Two young men, I am told, rescued us both from this search for our father.
Koeford, BC. A Meditative Journey with Saldage Homesickness for a place, a time, a person that cannot be
a meditative journey 
A very thoughtful post, Brenda! Thanks for sharing!
Thank you, Marcus.
I don’t know what touches me more: the photograph or the picture you paint with your words. But I am touched.
Michael, thank you for the validation of both my words about my father’s passing and the image that represented his work within a lumber mill.
I believe he would be touched too, and I believe that somewhere, he is.
Thanks for sharing this excellent contemplative post.
Thank you…it is always great to be heard…your words touched my soul.
Love the photo and appreciate the story. I have tried to take a photo like this many times, and most times I failed ;-( even though I was told how several times 😉
I wish I had the wisdom, like I have now, many years ago. I am certain I will have the same feeling about my current lacking-of-wisdom state many years later. Ha.
Have a wonderful day.
Thank you, Helen. I found that the best landscape photos require me to pack up my camping gear and travel into the mountains. This way, I will be on location for both the morning and evening sun.
I am so admiring you, Brenda. I wish I were braver. In my mind, I travel into the mountains often, but I am just not brave enough to actually do it. How sad. ;-(
Have a great day.
Most likely I will not be camping this summer as my body doesn’t care for sleeping on the ground and I am so tired of non-flushable toilets…not to mention the experience of overpowering scents.
😉 Oh yes, other than I am not brave, I also have problem with those toilets. Ha.
Have a wonderful day.
You took my breath away, Brenda.
Thank you for words that speak of connection, Rupali.
I am not sure if the last two paragraphs are your writing or a quote but they have an oddresonance for me tight now as the now ancient grief of my husband dying while my children were small has come back to me this week for some kind of belated healing. Your photo has a solemnity which reflects the words beautifully.
Suzanne, I do hope my words connected with your grief with a gentle touch of universal understanding.
Yes, it was odd like – a kind of deep letting go of a very old trauma.
Oh my such a wonderful image and thank you for sharing your remembrance so very moving …