For those of you who weren’t in attendance, the following poem I wrote was included in my dad’s memorial. I am happy to share his parting gift with you.
Sitting in your empty room,
the sun yawning in the East,
yesterday’s departure heavy in the air,
remembering brown leaves and branches
now threading shadows on snow.
Oh, the green will come again,
as sun will flood through windows,
but it’s barren in here now.
The daffodil that kissed your foot
is withered, drooping on the bed.
Lifted by the memories, still warm
of how you felt our love,
saw our kindness, heard us sing,
and you—surprised, loving it all,
loving, without reservation.
This was your parting gift.
There was so much to love in all you owned,
but it was something simpler that you honed,
beyond a life lived fully, and finally snuffed,
love of love itself is full enough.
— Eileen Rockefeller