Tuesday, February 12, 2013

Ashes to Ashes


So I say, “I have to pick up my Dad,”
and I know it sounds casual
and normal
as though I were picking him up from the airport,
or from some perfectly mundane place across town.
But that’s not where he is.
He is on a windy hilltop,
in a building designed to be comforting in its serene beauty,
its halls plush
meant for hush-
ed tones.
He is not exactly a “he” anymore, or a person at all,
but has been reduced to his essence,
the stuff not eaten by the flames.
There, he awaits his last trip home.
His last flight…
“I don't EVER want to fly again,” he proclaimed
last month
upon returning from far across the ocean,
        from that island 
where we thought he was already lost to us.

Home we’ll go.
So that he may,
at long last,
rest with the peace that he has earned--
impatiently sought, in these last days, 
but earned, nonetheless.

1 comment:

Dick said...

I am sorry for your loss and it is a loss even if there were some difficulties in the relationship (ref your Jan 4th post). It sounds like he wanted to be with you and may have known the end was near for him. That shows that you were very special to him.