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I was touring Europe and visited the Galleria dell’Accademia in Florence, Italy where Michelangelo’s David is housed. There was an art class walking through the Galleria and I tagged along. The instructor was showing the students Michelangelo’s unfinished sculptures and explaining to them that Michelangelo left many of these behind because he would stop working when he learned what he needed to learn. Sometimes this coincided with the manifest completion of the physical work, but often he would walk away from a work “unfinished” because something within himself told him it was time to move on. Then the instructor said something that blew my mind. He said that “strangely” enough, these unfinished works have been the most valuable to art historians because they have given us a complete and accurate map of just how Michelangelo worked. So in the end, his unfinished works were a profound gift to humanity. This really rocked my world. I sat there alone, looking at his unfinished works, for several hours, as my mind and soul deconstructed the notion of what it means to complete something.

Today my father passed from this world of form. I have entered that thin-place between the worlds that is the altered state of loss and grief. The father that gave his seed for my birth into this world is gone. The image of my father within me is in flux, as projection, reality, and archetypal forces swirl loose from their intra-psychic moorings. Memories of all the moments of love, challenge, bonding, and all the perfectly imperfect father-son experiences dance in the silence between the world of doing and the world of being. My father always believed in my gifts and talents. His eyes lit up with joy and pride at the sight of all my endeavors. Though we were different in so many ways, I always felt his quiet acceptance. Every time I draw a line on a blank piece of paper I will remember sitting at his architectural drafting table. Every time I face a challenge I will remember how he never retreated or surrendered. I will always remember his charm and his love for life. And though he was a greatly imperfect being, as am I, there is nothing I now hold against him or against myself. All that was love shines bright; and all the illusions of fear and doubt within and between us have melted away. He danced this life the best he could, I danced with him the best I could, and his light and love shines through and into my mind and heart and spirit. I feel grateful that his suffering has ended; and blessed for having him as my father. Goodbye my father. Thank you for loving me so unconditionally and so beautifully imperfectly.