Going Home

And I remember every word
from every voice I ever heard,
Every frog and every bird,
Yes, this is where it starts.
A brother's laugh, the sighing wind,
this is where my life begins.
This is where I learned to use my
hands and hear my heart.  - David Mallet

Even before my father’s body grew cold I knew that I wanted to go back to “where it all began. I wanted to  “go home” – I want to go back to Eastford.

I was born in Connecticut, but that’s not entirely what I mean by “where it all began.”  Eastford is where my fathers spiritual journey began. Its where my own faith was nurtured.

Eastford Baptist Church – “where it all began”

So that’s where I headed soon after my father died.

And my instincts were right.  The (healing) tears I couldn’t cry in Canada flowed while I sat in church on Sunday morning. Returning to the start somehow unlocked the memories.

And although ALL hugs and sympathetic words from friends and colleagues are comforting – still there’s something special about hugs from the people that knew my father.

Old friends

I’m so glad I went back to the beginning, back to where it started.