S'tan thank you so much for posting the recounting of your visit to your father's resting place. It reminds me of how important it is at times to feel the aloneness of having been put here on the earth and the tangible reach that manifests within one when those who brought you here have departed to the very 'place' out of which they brought you giving one the truely sensed expansiveness of what being alive is -that your physical location is such a finite reference -I don't know if I am conveying this acurately or well- but when you stand at the piece of ground feeling like a physical trace of the person that ground commemorates, following that life in to time, whatever else you had done in your own existence has such a clarified measure there, then, in a kind of proximity to the person whose purpose for you only becomes clarified with each year of your own life.
When I visit the grave of my father my senses are all in opposition. Below is only a box I know that he has left. What I say could be rain or wind. I am listening to the earth. Stone, metal, wood, bone, I would hold you to all my empty parts; future, fulfillment, final thought.