one year gone

I can't believe that tomorrow will mark one year of Charles being dead. We think of him every day -- when I wish I knew more Latin (also when i realize that I do know some, and I can hear his voice from the backroom, reading Juvenal), when we drink spectacular wine, when the day is beautiful, when airplanes fly over the house, when the telephone rings, when i open my email, when...daddy did so many things well and was so keenly interested in my life and touched so may aspects of it that almost everything i do makes me think of him, somehow. The world is emptier, but I'm inspired and glad, too. His gypsy manuscript is currently with a publisher in the UK and there is considerable interest but it needs to be just a bit longer -- if you're reading this and remember stories of that time, do write to me to let me know. caitlin (at) yorku.ca

Also, do check the 'in memoriam' link, above, to leave a message ... I've also added daddy's 'Christmas Fly' poem here and a brief audio excerpt from the gypsy book, recorded a week before he died. It's about Christmas in Sacremonte, and the new year.

adios.
xcaitlin