My father died today.  He spent the better part of his life as an engineer with the Merchant Marine.  It is a maritime tradition that when a member of the engine department passes away he is said to be “finished with engines”.

My father had been in failing health for some time but if pressed to identify the cause of death I’d have to say he died of a broken heart.  Losing mom after 61 years of marriage took both an emotional and physical toll.  I think he survived as long as he did so he could be there to take care of mom.  Without her his life lost meaning and purpose.

He was 83 years old and by any account he lived a long, and often hard, life.  He was nothing if not strong willed.  His passing was inevitable but I was surprised by how quickly he went in the end.  I believe he just decided it was time to go, so he went.  By all accounts it was a peaceful and easy departure.  Perhaps that’s the best any of us can hope for.

His desire was to have his body donated to the medical university.  After jumping through some bureaucratic hoops today we were able to make that happen.  Dad was always generous in his own quiet way and certainly wouldn’t want a big deal made of his parting gift.  And he made it very clear that a big funeral was not for him.  So I hope this simple tribute will suffice to do justice to his memory.

Dad, you were an amazing man and truly one of a kind.  You’ll be missed by all who knew and loved you.

My father was a lover of poetry and some of my earliest memories are of him sitting in his easy chair reading his favorite poems out loud to us kids.  And I distinctly remember him reciting this one on some long ago day:

Under the wide and starry sky
Dig the grave and let me lie.
Glad did I live and gladly die,
And I laid me down with a will.

This be the verse you grave for me;
“Here he lies where he longed to be,
Home is the sailor, home from sea,
And the hunter home from the hill.”  

–“Requiem” Robert Louis Stevenson

I just wanted to update y’all regarding my dad.  He was moved to the hospice ward at the hospital yesterday.  I’m sure you understand the implications of that.

He was hospitalized last week with pneumonia, and he has gotten progressively weaker.  He’s been unable to swallow so he was being fed though a tube in his nose to his stomach.  That’s a short term solution and they wanted to insert a tube directly through his stomach.  In his condition that’s a risky surgery, but necessary given the alternative.  Against my advice, he declined the surgery.

So, the goal of Hospice is to keep the patient comfortable.  I’ve not given up hope that he will regain the ability to swallow and can take nourishment by mouth.  If not, well, he’ll just fade away.

Sorry to be sharing this sad news, but thought you’d want to know.

Happy Mother’s Day to all the mom’s out there in the great wide open.

And speaking as one who is spending his first mother’s day without a living mom, indulge my imparting a little advice.

Sons and daughters, do more than the card and the “I love you”.  Take the time and make the effort to do the little things to make your mother feel special.  She’s easy to please I’d wager and letting her know you care will mean the world to her.

Don’t be like me wishing you had done more when it is too late for anything other than regrets.

Here’s the song my nephew sang after the funeral.  I find it hauntingly beautiful.

Mother don’t worry, I killed the last snake that lived in the creek bed
Mother don’t worry, I’ve got some money I saved for the weekend
Mother remember being so stern with that girl who was with me?
Mother remember the blink of an eye when I breathed through your body?

So may the sunrise bring hope where it once was forgotten
Sons are like birds, flying upward over the mountain

Mother I made it up from the bruise on the floor of this prison
Mother I lost it, all of the fear of the Lord I was given
Mother forget me now that the creek drank the cradle you sang to
Mother forgive me, I sold your car for the shoes that I gave you

So may the sunrise bring hope where it once was forgotten
Sons are like birds, flying always over the mountain