|Sudak, Crimea. August 2013.|
Two days ago D got a phone call from the states. His father had passed away at 4 AM that morning.
It's so hard- how does a son say goodbye to the dad that he's always known?
How does a wife say goodbye to the man she loves?
How does a teacher say goodbye to the student who struggled with this perplexing English language but never gave up learning?
How do children say goodbye to a parent who was always ready to help, whether the distance was 350 wintery miles on an Alaskan highway or 13 hours on a trans-Atlantic flight?
Things are kind of messy right now, everywhere. There's a hole in the fabric of our shared reality.
It's easy to look back on these pictures that D took at the beginning of August, on a brief trip back to his boyhood home, and wish we could go back to that time before the phone rang two days ago.
|Kharkov train station|
|Simferopol, Autonomous Republic of Crimea|
|Crimean sausage shop "Friendship"|
|one of D's childhood haunts|
|sunset along the coast (Sudak)|
|in D's childhood apartment|
|Simferopol train station|