harborside, Wellfleet, MA

my father died early this morning, my mother by his side.  she says he went easily in the end and without struggle; the pause between his breaths became longer and longer, and finally he just stopped.

we visited him last night, my brother and i, as he lay on a reclined bed with a transparent oxygen mask over his mouth, each breath a little closer to his last.  my mother's elder daughter was there too, making each of our paths a little easier and providing what comforts she could; it was she who called to tell me this morning.

from my stereo now comes the sounds of Sting's 'Soul Cages' album, which he wrote after the death of his own father.  i haven't listened to the whole album in years, perhaps anticipating this day.  borrowed emotional vehicles.  'Why Should I Cry For You' and i cry.

my father and i spent a lot of time together, episodically, over the last twenty years (after i was reborn after my darkest time), and he helped me to a second try at life.  he drove (and flew) many times, many hours to see me and spend time together; and we visited many places we wished to see.  the winter coast of North Carolina.  outer Cape Cod at all seasons.  driving from Phoenix to San Diego.  a train ride from Flagstaff to Boston.  a trip to Britain with his sons.  more places, more times than i can count.

bye, Dad.  safe journeys.

the album starts over again.