AN OUTOBIOGRAPHY OF LOSS

Watching the Pelicans glide above the breakers I am not certain if life has been easy on me, or,

have I been too kind to myself ? They cruise in a military formation.

When my grandparents died

I was still young and my life was not disrupted.

Spotting fish,

the pelicans plunge.

My Mother died in 1992. She was hospitalized in Sun City, Arizona. For a week we visited her.

She spoke to my father, ignored me.

On the flight back to Connecticut I cruised at an angry speed.

Terns flew in formation just above the waves.

My father remarried, adopted his new family, dismissed his old.

The terns circled back for a second run.

You could see the fish boiling on the surface. My father died in 2012 at ninety-five. The last few years he either did not know who I was, or, knowing demanded what did I want.

As the waves broke, the bait was silvery and evident.

Birds flocked.

In 2018, my wife of forty-five years died.

Bigger fish drove drove the bait towards shore.

More birds came.

This was my first real loss.