Written on May 13, 2009:
O water, voice of my heart, crying in the sand,
All night long crying with a mournful cry,
As I lie and listen, and cannot understand
The voice of my heart in my side or the voice of the sea,
O water, crying for rest, is it I, is it I?
All night long the water is crying to me.
Unresting water, there shall never be rest
Till the last moon droop and the last tide fail,
And the fire of the end begin to burn in the west;
And the heart shall be weary and wonder and cry like the sea,
All life long crying without avail,
As the water all night long is crying to me.
–Arthur Symons
This morning while I was working on homework the phone rang. “Hi honey. This is Mom. Talk to your father,” she said. I heard the rustling of the transfer from her to him.
“Hi,” Dad said.
“Hi Dad. I love you. How are you?”
He can’t make sentences that make much sense to the uninitiated, but sometimes (when angels thoughtfully whisper the meanings into my ear) I can understand what he’s trying to say.
“They have me captured here. I want to go home. I don’t know who this lady is,” he tried to say.
“Who is that lady who handed me the phone?” he asked.
“That’s my mom. Her name is JoAnn. She’s your wife.”
“Oh.”
“Dad, are you scared?” I asked.
“So scared,” he said.
I told him I was sorry, that I loved him, that he was the most important person to me in all of my life.
“Really?” he asked.
I told him that I pray for him every day. “I think of you all day long and I worry about you. I want you to know how loved you are.”
He started to cry.
“Hold on, I have to blow my nose.” He blew it loudly right into the phone and we laughed.
For some reason, on this day, May 13, 2009, he knew exactly who I was. (End of re-post)
On May 23, 2009, only ten days later, my father passed away. My brother Wayne was with him. “I wondered while I was standing there staring at his body, ‘Is he standing next to me? Is he floating around in the room? Did he zoom out of here the minute he took his last breath? Where is he? What just happened to him?’”
We are all terrifically sad. He was a wonderful man.
you wrote a lovely tribute to your dad. the picture of him shows a sweet and handsome man. i lost my mom a few years ago. it’s never easy. i know you and your family will draw even close to your mom. take care.
Comment by Jeannie — May 30, 2009 @ 4:38 pm
I know you must miss him terribly. But, we don’t grieve as those who who have no hope. I will meet you both in 10,000 years. We will have a wonderful party. A wonderful party together some day.
Comment by Boxer — June 3, 2009 @ 6:02 pm
I was never sure if you saw my direct message on Twitter, so I wanted to say again that I’m sorry for your loss, to extend my condolences to your entire family.
Every loss is different. I can’t compare what you’ve been through to my loss of my father in 1985 or my mother last year. I wanted you to know that even a stranger can be moved by your love for your father and by the way your writing has made him so much more than the disease he suffered–and, too, by your understanding of your mother.
Anyone would be fortunate to have a daughter like you.
Comment by Becky — June 7, 2009 @ 12:50 pm