I made note of what was around my apartment, a square, near the back of the cathedral, the street behind the bishop, and then just started walking. The centro historico of Cartagena is beautiful…colorful and bustling, with flowers everywhere and even though tourism is big here it still feels like a real city.
My father died last week and I’m still not sure how I need to mourn him. Being busy with the business of death has been quite distracting, but that can’t last that much longer, can it? Suddenly I feel like I’m 10 again, or 16, or 35, wishing that our family wasn’t broken, that he was always there, that he was a good father, so that now this loss could be sudden, excruciating, heartbreakingly normal. Fact is, we lost our father 40 years ago and I’ve already been mourning that loss year after year.
