Written last night:
Where do I start? There’s so much.
He’s gone. 5:05pm, Wednesday, July 26, 2006. My father died today. Every so often, it hits me again. He’s not here. He’s drawn his last breath. I was there with him, my hand on his emaciated leg, smaller than mine were at the depth of my own wasted state, when his breaths became farther and farther apart. Then, nothing. Sage was holding his hand, one finger on his pulse that was…just…no…more. He was gone.
I looked at my mother and at Jade when I realized his breathing had changed. I smiled at them. I told them, “It’s happening.” I smiled. It was a good thing. It was a long road, and the end was in sight. Dad went on and we stood, waving.
Tonight:
Today was a good day with few tears. Laughter, even. The arrangements are made. My mother has chosen to have them "lay him out" for a viewing. The pastor who tried so hard to guide him in order to save his soul will be speaking. I have a difficult time with the rigid way they looked at my father in the end, the trouble they had seeing that he was, in his own way, the best person he could offer to God.
I want to write. I want to get it all down. There is still much, much that I can't seem to communicate to others. Those little details. Nobody seems to see their significance but me. Maybe there is none, outside of me. But I'll get it all down. Get it down...all of it.
Till later...
Where do I start? There’s so much.
He’s gone. 5:05pm, Wednesday, July 26, 2006. My father died today. Every so often, it hits me again. He’s not here. He’s drawn his last breath. I was there with him, my hand on his emaciated leg, smaller than mine were at the depth of my own wasted state, when his breaths became farther and farther apart. Then, nothing. Sage was holding his hand, one finger on his pulse that was…just…no…more. He was gone.
I looked at my mother and at Jade when I realized his breathing had changed. I smiled at them. I told them, “It’s happening.” I smiled. It was a good thing. It was a long road, and the end was in sight. Dad went on and we stood, waving.
Tonight:
Today was a good day with few tears. Laughter, even. The arrangements are made. My mother has chosen to have them "lay him out" for a viewing. The pastor who tried so hard to guide him in order to save his soul will be speaking. I have a difficult time with the rigid way they looked at my father in the end, the trouble they had seeing that he was, in his own way, the best person he could offer to God.
I want to write. I want to get it all down. There is still much, much that I can't seem to communicate to others. Those little details. Nobody seems to see their significance but me. Maybe there is none, outside of me. But I'll get it all down. Get it down...all of it.
Till later...
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