dia de los muertos
My dad traveled a lot when I was little. He worked as a sound man on films and documentaries. I remember waiting for postcards and packages from him; gifts when he got back. He wasn’t much of a letter writer but loved sending odd postcards.
The one below with his handwriting is one I kept all these years and took on new meaning after he died. The picture is one I found recently: what looks like an old scratched up Polaroid print my mom took of him while she was pregnant with my older sister.
Tonight the veil grows thin….
He’s so handsome in this picture! Easy to see where you get your good looks…:)