Soothing are the trees and clouds, the fields of spring flowers through which I stroll. There is such stillness of mind in picking and arranging wildflowers, knowing that their natural beauty is, inherently, fleeting. Lescure’s woods are reverberating with bird song, a gentle chorus of mercy. Whispers of compassion trickle through cracked windowpanes into the silence of the chapel as I light candles to guide your passage. I wasn’t at your side when your spirit left your body. Instead you joined me here in this small temple, whose dilapidated walls serve to teach me about the beauty of impermanence and the evanescence of life. You shared your paternal wisdom with me for the last time, telling me to let go and accept life’s natural cycle. Thank you, dad, and have a safe journey.