Looking for some books to process the death of my father. Poems, words, anything. A feeling of both terror and relaxation has come over me.
>>25513703sorry for your losshow much money did you inherit?I recommend The Quest for the Historical Jesus by Albert Schweitzeravailable for freehttps://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/45422
>>25513703Read Kierkegaard
>>25513711>how much money did you inherit?I inherited a rosary. That's it. My father was not a man of wise financial decisions. But, hey, at least the Holy Mother is by my side.
>>25513703Auden's Funeral blueshttps://allpoetry.com/Funeral-BluesHousman's poetry covers mourning and mortalityhttps://www.chiark.greenend.org.uk/~martinh/poems/complete_housman.html
I'm not a rap and hip hop guy, but there is a song by Atmosphere about thinking he saw his dad because he saw a guy that looked like him but it just made him remember that his dad passed away, it used to make my buddies cry and I don't dare listen to it now
>>25513703The Lost Pilot by James Tate>for my father, 1922-1944Your face did not rotlike the others—the co-pilot, for example, I saw himyesterday. His face is corn-mush: his wife and daughter, the poor ignorant people, stareas if he will compose soon.He was more wronged than Job. But your face did not rotlike the others—it grew dark,and hard like ebony;the features progressed in theirdistinction. If I could cajoleyou to come back for an evening, down from your compulsiveorbiting, I would touch you, read your face as Dallas, your hoodlum gunner, now,with the blistered eyes, reads his braille editions. I wouldtouch your face as a disinterestedscholar touches an original page. However frightening, I would discover you, and I would notturn you in; I would not make you face your wife, or Dallas, or the co-pilot, Jim. Youcould return to your crazy orbiting, and I would not try to fully understand whatit means to you. All I know is this: when I see you, as I have seen you at leastonce every year of my life, spin across the wilds of the sky like a tiny, African god,I feel dead. I feel as if I were the residue of a stranger’s life, that I should pursue you.My head cocked toward the sky, I cannot get off the ground, and, you, passing over again,fast, perfect, and unwilling to tell me that you are doing well, or that it was mistakethat placed you in that world,and me in this; or that misfortune placed these worlds in us.
>>25513764Pretty different case since James' dad died when James was an infant, but I think it's a wonderful poem. There's another by James for his mother, "For Mother on Father’s Day," for which you have some context.>You never got to reclinein the maternal tradition,I never let you. Fate.you call it, had other eyes,for neither of us ever hada counterpart in the wayfamilial traditions go.I was your brother,and you were my unhappyneighbor. I pitied youthe way a mother pitiesher son’s failure. I couldnever find the properapproach. I would havelent you sugar, mother.
>>25513703for all your blustering bigness,you were sad and mean and small,why make it so hard for me to love you? thats all i wanted afterall,for years and years i grieved your life,id bawl and bawl and bawl,but now youre dead im glad youre gone,i barely cry at all:) anyway OP sorry for your loss
>>25513717worshiping Mary is wrong
Peace be with you, anon.
>>25513717I feel like you're lying to me
