It's interesting to me how the soft underbelly of those we love comes forth most profoundly in their birth & then in their passing.
I stood by my father's hospital bed the other night after our 'last' meal together of salmon, baked potato, green beans & fruit crisp, which he had gobbled down with gusto. He then motioned for me to lean down closer & closer until he could peck me on the cheek. I then kissed him on his head & he thanked me, as he had thanked Moe, the big black guy who turned him like a steak & the nurses who shifted his pillows or brought him ice. Chivalry until the end.
For all intents & purposes my father is mostly gone now, even as he lays in twilight in a nursing home on morphine drip. I wish he didn't have to lose his faculties or experience the shutting down of time & space & his organs. Somehow a head on instant car crash feels more humane. I don't want to make the drive again tomorrow to witness a disappearing shriveled shell that is no longer him, although at the same time I wish I was there holding his hand right now so he was not braving this journey alone.
I believe his soul is slowly arching away from the constraints of earthly plane. How strange though it seems that one so wearily encased can rally for that final flight! God Speed, Daddy Dear xo