I am sitting with several people in a large room. They are all talking of death, of cremation and of burial. I guess I am inside the waiting room of a indoor crematorium. One older woman says that she doesn't care for the tradition of cremation. It is so removed from the Earth, she will prefer burial. I think it is odd that there is no ritual involved. I look down at a bowl of food I am eating. It is ground meat, rice and seasoning. It occurs to me that I am eating my father. I continue eating for a time, more as a burial rite and ritual for my Dad than out of hunger. I am a vegetarian and the notion of eating meat, even my Dad, sickens me. I eat half the bowl and put it down. I have eaten enough and my Dad will always be part of me.

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