It has been one year since the birth of our son, and in three days' time, it will be the first anniversary of his passing. My mother raised me to always write thank-you notes for gifts I received. His was one of the greatest so far in my short life.
Foremost, he helped me to rearrange my priorities into something far more human. I have experienced, although briefly, the selfless love of fatherhood. And I know loss. The hustle and buzz of technology, the pleasures of the mind alone--no longer hold so much sway. More and more humanity seems like a single organism to me. More and more, I feel compassion, poignancy--how much everything matters that is done with love.
I came back to poetry after a four year hiatus, and upped the ante by enrolling in an MFA program. It hasn't been anything like an easy year--even now as I'm writing this, I'm quite sick and somewhat miserable. Yet the effect of such profound love and loss this year is something I would not trade. I can't be sure I'll keep feeling this way in the coming three days, or even in the coming years. It's been pretty rocky at times so far. But when I get down to the heart of this experience, strange as it sounds, I am grateful.
Thank you, James. And Godspeed.