Sunset Singing

I wasn’t very bonded with my father, and I haven’t grieved his death much. I was surprised at the more normal emotional reactions of my siblings and have kept silent out of respect for them and my mom. Guess it was just me.

But a year and a half later now, at a sunset singing circle overlooking the Hudson, I hear his voice, shy for once, singing the old tunes. I’d forgotten he’d liked to sing and forgotten he was self conscious about it. He sings with me, and more than once I have to stop so I don’t cry.