When you lived with me on the island, could you see ahead to this moment in which they would raise you up? Could you imagine how you would shine above, for them?
I thought we weren’t supposed to want to not be part of this world with its sunshine and its shadows. How did you change that so conclusively, so decisively? How did you make it seem like something else?
And is yours the first or second father we have seen bowing before his son’s decision to leave him, because his story is similar to the one whose story I listened to beside my grandfather in the pew,
so when he looks for you here in the world, when he looks at a humanity which drove you from him, and is still able to speak with love, by his lead, the gratitude is all on us.