Where is my dad's laugh now?
I can hear it still, really.
Where is my dad's laugh?

In her book, Fugitive Pieces; the poet Anne Michaels says that it is no metaphor to feel the influence of the dead in the world, just as it is no metaphor to hear a Geiger counter amplifying the faint breathing of rock fifty thousand years old. She writes:

"It is no metaphor to witness the astonishing fidelity of minerals magnetized, even after hundreds of millions of years, pointing to the magnetic pole, minerals that have never forgotten the magma whose cooling off has left them forever desirous … If a chip of stone radiates its self its breath so long, how stubborn might be the soul."

I know that it's no metaphor to say that my father's laughter continues here among us, and on and on.

When my father and mother were helping me put together my bar mitzvah service, my mother thought she would read the lyrics to John Lennon's song, "In My Life." But when she practiced it, she found she was almost singing it and couldn't really read it without singing! So my father said he would read it instead; but when he read it he got choked up and actually started crying. At l3, I didn't understand why. Now, I look at the words he read and understand better.

The words he spoke I would like to share with you:

There are places I remember
All my life, though some have changed.
Some forever; not for better
Some have gone and some remain.

All these places had their moments
With lovers and friends
I still can recall.
Some are dead and some are living
In my life I've loved them all.

I know I'll never lose affection
For people and things that went before
I know I'll often stop and think about them.
In my life, I loved them all.
In my life, I loved them all.