We spoken of death here a lot, though maybe not in this way. This will be hard for me. Thanks for the opportunity to vent, thanks for the therapy.

One morning as I climbed from bed the celtic cross that I had worn on a silver chain around my neck suddenly fell off and hit the floor. I thought it weird but simply picked it up and put it on my dresser. A few minutes later my mother telephoned to say that Dad had died. Dad, a clergyman, had worn a similar cross much of his life. Deeper meaning? I don't know.

A day or two later I saw Dad's body at the funeral home (we and he had refused to have the body touched except to have him robed in his alb, representing the only thing he felt he could leave this world with that he hadn't entered it with) and since the body had been kept cold...well, HE just wasn't there. No presence. No casket or coffin, no preparation of the body, just a trip to wherever to be cremated...HE was long since departed.

I was at Mum's side when she passed away, and with her body for a couple of hours, but it was real obvious that when she died the body had changed and that as with Dad, the body stopped having any real significance to me. No presence. Photographs have more life, perhaps for the memories attached, perhaps psychologically...maybe photos do take some of the soul...In any event, it didn't and doesn't matter to me what happens to the body except that it not burden us with its disposal. The ashes of my parents and my sister were put in their favourite water where at least symbolically their bodies can reside forever, their souls departed. I want my ashes to be put there too.

I never saw my sister after she died, but in my last visit with her she seemed to want to escape her cancer riddled body. She wasn't able to speak, but her eyes were wild with intent to escape the drugs and, I believe, this world. She was the most vibrant of people in life but it was over for her and she knew it. I can't describe how much I miss her, but in the end her death was mercy.

How happy I am to live in the photographic age where we can support our memories with pictures of happiness...and maybe retain a glimpse of their souls.

Peace, Mooh.