Today is the second anniversary of Aidan’s death. It seems longer. Time has a way of extending and transforming as the years click by. I can still see him here with us, but his absence is palpable. Indeed, as the Tao Te Ching suggests, it is his absence that shapes my presence, that continues to define my life. Here is a reflection I wrote last year. Today, I sit at home, looking up at the drizzly gray sky and think about how the past lives through the present.
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In all beneath heaven there’s nothing bigger than the tip of an autumn hair, and T’ai Mountain is tiny. No one lives longer than a child who dies young, and the seven-hundred-year-old P’eng Tsu died an infant.
– Chuang Tzu (26)
“11 He hath made every thing beautiful in his time … ” ( Looking at Aidan’s photo )…
Ecclesiastes
…
It is heartless for me to talk about worldly events like Tibet. The come and go of states in the flow of history can’t compare the significance of Aidan.
Isha
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Requiem æternam dona ei, Domine, et lux perpetua luceat ei. Requiescat in pace.
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Koreans say that when a parent dies, you bury him in the mountain, but when a child dies, you bury him in your chest. My thoughts and prayers are with you.
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Thank you both.
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Sam, I love what you wrote last year about Aidan. A good boy, a good dad.
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The Useless Tree 
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