Reunion
As a child, my father was often away, and his absence shaped my sense of space, not as empty, but as waiting. His recorded voice, telling stories, soothed my spirit, a low murmur that wrapped me in warmth. His calm words folded around the silence like a gentle embrace.
In those summers when we traveled to Nepal to meet him, time stretched between absence and arrival. Cows drifted through the streets, the air heavy with stillness. Dust rose and settled, softened by incense that drifted through the air like rivers of memory. Amid the clamor of horns and voices, prayer wheels turned quitely under passing hands. Even in the noise, there was a silence that seemed to hold his presence, as if the city itself remembered him with me.
Only years later did I begin to understand what those moments pointed toward—what waited behind the veil of the visible.
Fathers
🌳Rev. John S. Dunne, C.SC.
“We are shaped by the stories we love and by the stories we fear”
🌳 Rev. Theodore M. Hesburgh, C.S.C.
“We are not here to guard a museum, but to nurture a garden.”
🌳 Dr. Rev. Martin L. King Jr.
“Our scientific power has outrun our spiritual power. We have guided missiles and misguided men.”
