I watched my Dad die. It was a hot summer day. The window was open and there was a breeze. But not in the room and it was cool as well. And quiet. As death? He rose once and said,'I'm not ready to go yet.' He reclined once more and began leaving in spite of his protest. 'Uh uh', repeatedly, til there was silence. His argument spent, he left. The breeze rushed in with its afternoon warmth, as if to carry him aloft. The vacuum was gone and life went on.
Is it morbid after all this time to tell this short story? It's one of the most intimate moments in my life. I'm virtually revealing it to the world here. Well, if the world happened by this tiny corner of the internet.
There is a reason and tale behind everything that happens. Most of the time it's confined to few or possibly none left.
My Dad was sick for several years. He suffered greatly and so did we along with him. If he had lived he would have had lots to do. But it wasn't to be.
And life for the living goes on and I believe it does for those who cross over.
Just savor what there is and weather the storms and ride through triumphs great and small.
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