Isabel

“Eloquently, Barbara Deming expresses this longing when she writes about her father’s death: “Years ago now. It was on a weekend in the country and he’d been working outside with a pick and a shovel, making a new garden plot. He’d had a heart attack and fallen there in the loose dirt. We’d called a rescue squad, and they were trying to bring him back to life, but couldn’t. I was half-lying on the ground next to him, with my arms around his body. I realized that this was the first time in my life that I had felt able to really touch my father’s body. I was holding hard to it—with my love—and with my grief. And my grief was partly that my father, whom I loved, was dying. But it was also that I knew already that his death would allow me to feel freer. I was mourning that this had to be so. It’s a grief that is hard for me to speak of. That the only time I would feel free to touch him without feeling threatened by his power over me was when he lay dead—it’s unbearable to me.”
― bell hooks, The Will to Change: Men, Masculinity, and Love