This is just a short piece about a conversation I once had. One that I will never forget, and it will be as clear as a bell, hopefully until I die. For months after it took place, it was with me almost daily but as the years have passed it visits me only occasionally. One such occasion was last night. This is something I have never put on paper or a screen and probably won’t ever again. It will be the shortest stream of words I have ever written on this site but surely the deepest water. I once heard that when a son loses his father, he loses a piece of himself.
*** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** ***
The drapes on the window were open and outside the sky was a slate gray. Moody and dark, but it was only early afternoon. Windy. Thunder mumbled deep and came rolling in from the west. It had rained that morning, and it was threatening to again.
He cleared his throat and squeezed my hand. It was a farm boys squeeze. A Marine’s squeeze. A bricklayer’s squeeze. “Where is your mother?”
I thumbed over my shoulder towards the door, “Her and Kathy are at the nurses station.”
He crooked his finger and motioned me towards him, so I leaned in close.
“Don’t call her back in here yet. Listen to me now.” His faded watery eyes bored into me and he pursed his lips. “You take care of your mother.”
“You know I will Dad. Kathy and I will both take care of her.”
He nodded but then his eyes were pressed tightly shut in a grimace, his torso stiffened, and he hissed air in through his teeth.
“Dad, it’s okay to go. We’ll be fine. I’ll take care of things…It’s okay.”
He didn’t answer just kept his eyes closed tightly. His grip got stronger.
“Just let go Dad. We love you.”
His eyes opened again, and he smiled a little at the corners of his mouth. “You know that I can’t do that Jimmy. I don’t know how.”
I tried to smile too but failed, badly. “I just meant…” I ran out of words.
“I know what you meant, but I really don’t have any say in it. I won’t be going easy. Just the way it is.”
*** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** ***
I was with my dad when he passed, and we had a similar conversation. My brother said the very same thing to our mother when he was alone with her as she left this realm. With my dad, I had a lot of reasons to worry about his spirit when he left; and a lot of regrets of my own to wrestle with. The last breath for him involved a lot of conversation and signing of papers and turning off of machines and tubes and medications. It was just me and a very compassionate doctor with a huge heart; we sat together in his hospital room at two in the morning and ushered him into the next world.
Two years later, Dad came to me in a dream and we had an amazing conversation that put all of my worries and regrets to rest. Just a few months ago, a medium reached out to me and told me she had my dad there with her and he was telling her that she had to describe where he was to me. She described the setting of my dream in perfect detail -- a place I never saw in this life.
It's a dreadful thing to lose a parent. The sun never sets on a day when I haven't thought of my folks and all they did for me and my brother, all they dreamed of and hoped for, and how much I wish they were still here.
This was beautifully recorded. Thank you.