Yesterday my father died...

Today I remembered that as a young teenager, for about two years, I used to pray for my parents to get divorced.
There was alcohol, fights, beatings, and my mom’s suicide attempts (she died two years ago).
I dreamed of silence and peace. I imagined that if they got divorced and lived separately, I could live a bit with one and then with the other.
They wouldn’t see each other, so I wouldn’t have to be afraid anymore, or worry about them.
I would have space to do my homework (I liked learning — I still do), to paint, read books, play the accordion or guitar.
Without fear — that is, without a trembling body and mind that had trouble sleeping and/or concentrating.

Today I sat on my (meditation) cushion,
looked into the misty autumn,
and felt the peace
I prayed for decades ago…

Sometimes death is the best healing…