I went rummaging in the closet

Last weekend, I went home to Denmark for my father’s funeral.

I am not saying this for effect, but rather as an explanation for the many posts about childhood on my blog lately.

In some ways, this funeral felt a little bit like rummaging in a long-forgotten (or ignored) closet. I had no real idea of what I’d find and braced myself for some potentially unpleasant clean-up, but when it came right down to it, it was easier than anticipated, and was something I clearly needed to do.

Of course, funerals have a stirring-of-the-pots effect for almost anyone. It made me think about the personal luggage we all come with, the stories we tell ourselves to avoid underlying discomfort, the feelings we have wrapped up in tissue-paper and guard in the back of the closet, the way in which we almost universally insist on solving relational issues through process or facts. All of our closets have some mess somewhere.

Someone wise once said that humans will do almost anything to avoid being confronted with their own soul. I thought of that this weekend. I also thought of the fact that, when we stop avoiding it, we are blown away by awe.

We are not unspectacular beings, Ada Limón states in one of my favorite poems.

In fact, we are filled with stardust and love. Remember that.