DEATH OF A FATHER

My father had been dying for almost twenty years. There is a difference though between dying and death. One is ever in the future, the other in a catastrophic now.

And it is one thing to assign blame and live accordingly and another to reconcile two lifetimes and understand, despite it being too late, that a father cares. More shocking still, that you do.

I pictured his death differently every time I ventured into a future divested of constant need. I imagined his dying a freeing thing for both of us- he escaping his failing body, I no longer at the beck and call of this and that needing doing.

Turns out... death or near-death is a palpable thing. The one dying and the one observing death both feel the finality. There remains naught but to connect and seek, those final moments, some forgiveness.