On the Death of My Father

Tuesday August 18th 2020

My Dad died at around 8.30am on July 31.

His passing was pleasant, I’m told. He was in his own bed, in his own house. His carer came to find him, breezily calling down the corridor, and sailing into his room. Seeing he was still supine, she said his name, he replied, “Oui”, and instantly fell into a coma. The rest went quickly. Neighbours arrived, the nurse arrived and as soon as hospital and ambulances were mentioned, my father expired. Hospitals, he’d already told anyone who would listen, were prison, and he clearly had no intention of ending up in one.

At that moment, the degree on the horizon was the same as my own rising degree in late Leo on my father’s Venus, the Moon and South Node were making a conjunction to my brother’s Sagittarian Moon, and Ceres, the asteroid of parenting, was making a conjunction to my sister’s South Node in Pisces, the place of loss.

I’d seen him just the week before and I can’t say I was entirely surprised when I got the panicked early-morning call. He was old, ill, bored and lonely; also not in the least afraid of dying. In fact, he’d made a sort of peace with his past and said some important goodbyes. He’d reached a place of contentment.

Uranus, the planet of change, upheaval and rebellion, who had played such a huge role in his life, had returned to 10° Taurus, one degree from his natal Uranus, after more than 80 years of adventure through the Zodiac.

Now his body has been burned to dust, and his spirit has been released back into the wild, which is just what he would have liked, for he was not a follower of Jesus or Muhammad or Buddha — at all — but of Pan, the god of the wild places and untamed feelings. Curly-haired Pan, beast below, musician above. Pan: dawn-piper, cloven-hoofed dancer, nymph-lover, smasher, drinker, music-maker.

My father was born with a conjunction of the Moon and Uranus in Taurus, the earthy sign, like Pan associated with nature, spring-time and appetites. And my father was indeed a person driven by unpredictable, insatiable, irrational desires — some the usual ones: wine, women, fast driving, books, maps; others more surprising: the works of Isak Dinesen, Boris Pasternak and Virgil, Islamic architecture, Swiss Army knives, Alexandria. In his later years, he developed obsessions with hand-held vacuum cleaners, insecticide, dried basil and garlic powder, mole traps, French circus TV, caviar, and the little people who came into the house and moved things; not to mention a consuming late-life hatred of one D. Trump that may have kept him going for an extra six months.

My father, like many Leos, experimented with roles throughout his life, some of which lasted decades. His day job was professor of comparative literature at the American University in Cairo (Jupiter in Sagittarius in 3H), a job that he enjoyed a lot and which appealed to his need for continuity (Taurus Moon) and showing off (Sun in Leo). But his playtime roles were many and varied: scholar, boy wonder, poet, screenwriter (Frankenstein Meets the Space Monster is still rated as one of the worst movies of all time, a fact of which he was quite proud), Mediterranean playboy, actor (you can see him in a few movies by Yousef Chahine), publisher (his biggest coup was getting Naguib Mahfouz translated into English for the first time), entrepreneur, historian, American abroad… Quite a few of these roles required special costumes: a perky silk scarf, a dashing Russian hat, an Egyptian galabeyya, an English suit, a photographer’s waistcoat with a million pockets, a beret. Some were more convincing  than others; some he had to work at for a long time and never quite came off.

My parents with their friend Chris before I was born.

Admittedly, pater familias was never a role he grew into (Mars-Pluto in Cancer anyone?), and husband was a role he played remarkably badly, but consistently (that Taurus Moon again). My parents were married for nearly 60 years, but only a really crazy person would see their union as a model to follow. Unfortunately for them, they had what’s known in astrology as a cosmic marriage — a conjunction of my father’s Sun and my mother’s Moon in Leo, a sign that attracts drama. A cosmic marriage gives relationships a fated quality that can be hard to give up. One thing I’ve learned from this is that fated does not equal happy!


As a Libra Rising, he needed a partner in everything he did. Sometimes it was my mother, sometimes not. You can imagine that with that Taurus-Leo combination he was also a deeply loyal and passionate person.

Last time I saw him, my dad asked me to bring him two things: a copy of this picture of my mother to have beside his bed, and a song by Vera Lynn that reminded him of the clever, sophisticated European he’d met on a bunk bed at the University of Virginia in 1959. Growing up in the heart of the American Midwest, by then he’d already been in love with an idea of Europe (a place he’d yet to visit) for years.

Most of their working lives, though, were spent in Egypt — another place he romanced and romanticised, a place where he could invent himself anew.

So when I started writing this piece, I had never looked at where the asteroid Pan (4450) sits in my father’s chart, but as you know, and I know, astrology works.

The god he worshipped was at 4° Cancer, on his Midheaven at the moment of his birth, and just by the destiny point, the South Node. His eventual self-destruction (a South Node potential) was driven by those Panic urges. When Saturn, the grim reaper finally came for him (exactly opposing his natal Pluto), Pan was stationing, that is standing still, ready to turn backwards in my father’s eighth house, the place of death, the gates of the underworld, ready to call him back to the wild wood and the ancient cloven-footed dance.

My father was a bel homme, a pretty man, with Libra Rising, so his chart was ruled by Venus in Leo — and indeed his life was dominated by women: his terrifying mother, my complex mother, his petites amis, his boss, his best students, several of his closest lifelong friends. And he died surrounded by strong, warm women — the nurse, his carer and the neighbour, just as the horizon reached his Venus in Leo. After that one word, “yes”, left his lips, he’d said it all; yes, he had lived a life on earth, full, complex, rich.

My Dad with his cat Pooka in 1960. He only ever had two cats that were really and truly his. And the fact that they were identical was just “coincidence”. Still… so Leo.

This is from The Iowa Review in 1994. He never quite believed in the astrology — but then he kind of did.





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  1. Isabel Tifft says:

    I’m speechless, darling. You’ve convinced me that he was ready to roll and is at home in the arms of his goat-footed god. My world is wobbled by the passing of one of the last of my childhood father-figures; though I lost my own Dad years ago, I can’t really imagine so much silence where there was so much … muchness … in your life. Whenever you want, my arms are wrapped around you, and excellent tea awaits us.

    That picture of Buffy is *hypnotic*.

    So much love to you all.

  2. Jeanne says:

    What a lovely piece about John Rodenbeck, your Dad. I recall visiting them in France years ago…Buffy received me and John was nude at the bottom of the garden, “a sylvan figgah” she said calmly, a memory I treasure.

    • Ellen M says:

      Deepest condolences Christina.
      Your tribute to your Dad is beautiful, balanced and touching.
      RIP John Rodenbeck

  3. Kim Werfel says:

    I’m so sorry to hear of your Dad’s passing. It is a shock – someone you’ve known your whole life, a father, is suddenly no more. Only memories now. Thank you for the peak into his life….and your life. May the void of his loss be filled with the love of your friends and remaining family. Warmest condolences.

  4. Vesta says:

    Lovely tribute. I am so sorry for your loss. <3
    I never looked at my chart the day my Dad passed away. Saturn was square my sun. Uranus was conjunct my saturn. Ceres was transiting my Scorpio stellium, square to my Saturn. Difficult. Shocking. He had a stroke out of the blue and went into a coma, so no one got to say goodbye. But there's another relationship after they go. Doesn't matter whether you believe it or not, they're around and they make their presence felt. 🙂 I find it hugely comforting. I hope your Dad visits you in your dreams soon. xx

  5. Kirsten Carpentier says:

    What a profound and deep tribute to your father! I have been thinking of you and all of the complex parts of grief that losing a parent brings. My deepest sympathies to you and your family.

  6. Richard says:

    Very touching tribute. Thanks for sharing this adventure

  7. sherryl lacey haverhals says:

    Lovely. How blessed you are, all of you, you, your mum and dad. Beautiful, I see you in her eyes and Hair, of course, and also your father. Truly blessed. Wishing you peace and well being.

  8. fraukje says:

    What a beautiful and touching piece, Christina. A proper tribute to your father.

  9. Nina Ashby says:

    Beautiful tribute to an obviously remarkable man & how he lived from you as an appreciative loving daughter. Such interesting astrology! The weaving….My condolences to you & your family Christina. 💖

  10. Amanda Lyddon says:

    Beautifully written – sending you love x

  11. Mary says:

    My condolences to you and your family ❤️
    What a beautiful description of your Dads life, I hope my children remember me as fondly …
    It’s a journey for us all ✨

  12. T says:

    So inspirational as divinity transcribes through your research and words. He still lives through them.

  13. Gavin says:

    Sorry for your loss, but this is a lovely piece to read… and his sounds like a life well lived. 🙂

  14. much love to you and your family Christina <3
    Thank you for sharing with us some personal astrology about your Dad and writing a great tribute to his life, it's beautiful xx

  15. Helen says:

    What a lovely, compassionate tribute. My own father passed away exactly one year ago and he too had Mars-Pluto in Cancer—in his case directly on his ascendant. Your thoughtful essay actually helped me get a bit more peace and healing around my own difficult father. Only an evolved Pisces could have written such a forgiving, healing tribute. Condolences on your loss.

  16. Sabrina says:

    Thank you for sharing with us this beautiful and intimate tribute 🌷

  17. Iris says:

    Beautiful. What a gift, to be able to pay tribute to both your parents in the way you have.
    What a huge time for you. Thank you for sharing these treasures with us.
    Condolences Christina.

  18. Sijtie says:

    Thank you, reminds me that my father is from 1927 and healthy alive. Your description is so nice, i looked up Pan.

  19. Jeanne says:

    Warm condolences. I learned so much from this piece. My own father was born in July 1938 with this same Mars-Pluto quite near his Cancer sun. Hard stuff for him and his children to live with.

  20. AquarianMoon says:

    Very lovely. My condolences to you and yours.

  21. Martin says:

    Beautiful piece Christina, and a fitting tribute to a complex but always fun character. You confuse me with Astrology as he confused me with his cocktails but he and Buff were always great company. Thank you for the memories!

  22. Rachel says:

    Christina – only just seen this piece as I’ve not dipped in to your site for a while.

    What a wonderful piece of writing and tribute to your father. He sounds like he was a real character.
    My condolences for your loss.

    I am Libra rising, too, so your comment about needing a partner in everything resonates so strongly, especially as I don’t have one and do feel quite isolated at this time.

    I hope that when my 94-year old mother eventually leaves this mortal coil, I will be able to be as eloquent as you. I know that we both respectively will have some great memories to sustain us.