Sunday, September 22, 2002

And In The End

And in the end the love you take / Is equal to the love you make. -- Beatles

Thinking of my dad's death today for some reason. Actually thinking of the exact moment he died -- the precise moment he drew his last breath. A precious, intimate, heart-stopping (mine) ... or should I say, heart-stopping (his) moment.

Like walking a child to school at some point, you reach the big door and you must let go of their hand.

And so, you could say I walked him to the end of a long hallway, a life, in fact. And strangely, the day before he died, more than half a dozen family members were there to do the same walk with him, but he wasn't ready to leave. Did he wait for me until the next morning? I can't know.

But I was there the next morning -- only me after long months with him in bitter weather, crunching through ice and snow many mornings to be with him bedside.

Yes, on that last morning, on that last walk, I wonder if he didn't wait for me, because he had a secret to tell me. He wanted to tell me about love. He wanted to teach me how to walk that walk, which I will walk someday.

This is what I was trying to explain to someone today, this strange walk with my dad, who, of course, could NOT walk on that day, but it felt as if we were strolling and he turned to me and he told me a joyous secret, that there would be great love coming my way, powerful love to envelope me and sustain me, an amazing thing and I turned quickly to look at him, I wanted to know more, I wanted to say, hey, wait a minute, give me the details, and I looked up quickly at his face and that sly guy ... he was gone. Just like that.