Dear Dad,
You died on
Tuesday morning. You were having another seizure. I came to see you
in the afternoon and I found your body in your bed. Cold. Stiff.
You were long gone. The body seemed empty. I tell you this in case
you are currently a wandering ghost, lost, confused. I know how the seizures
disoriented you. When I found your body, I called out to you, I
reached out and touched your cheek. I held your shoulder and shook
you, but you did not wake.
I stepped outside and called 000
Wren was with me, waiting in the car,
reading. I sat with him and told him that you had died. We cried
for a while, talking a little bit, then Wren suggested we listen to
the song “My Grandfather's clock”, so we sat together, listening
in silence, waiting.
After so many years of waiting for this
moment, it still came as a surprise. There was no lingering hospital
bed decay, no dramatic last moments for us to say our goodbye's. On
Monday you were here, vibrant, laughing. On Tuesday you were gone.
It's Thursday night as I write this. I
have cried a lot, caught unawares by sudden outpourings of emotion.
I don't have words to describe these waves of salt water that pour
out of me. Grief, I am learning quickly, is a complex mixture of
feelings that command the body, mind and heart. I don't know what's
really happening to me, but I am changing.
Your sudden departure is like a
magnesium flare, and our lives are illuminated in the light of your
now complete life story. I have your private journal, 600 pages of
diary transcripts and personal notes. I have your collected poetry,
78 pages of previously unread verse. In just two days I have already
learned things that you never spoke about. Our secrets have secrets.
Father, you and I are so alike.
I can't write more today. My heart
still races and my thoughts are crowded, cluttered. I love you. I I
love you today, I loved you yesterday, and I will love you tomorrow.
Wherever you have gone, I wish you well.
I will write again soon.
With gratitude and respect.
Morgan
Thank you xxx
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