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Ron Moss

paper smile

Up high on dad's shoulders in the bright sunlight is one of my earliest memories of him. Now as I sit beside his rimu-wood coffin, the gold plaque bearing the name we both share glints on the underside of a white lily. His black and white portrait rests at the head of his coffin. It shows a very young policeman—his favourite photograph. Even in death, his spirit is not diminished. I sit in gratitude for that, and although there where tough times between us, the three times he repeated "I love you" as we parted, a month before his death, will stay with me always.

funeral service
all that's left
in a paper smile

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