Words. Keep Walking.

I've been looking through old journals lately, and have come across writings I didn't know were there. This is a record of a conversation with my father almost two years before he died. I didn't know, when I wrote it, what he meant about "writing all that down" - but now I do.  Lately, I've missed him more than usual. Every old man is my father, ever great thought some how began with him, and just today my daughter said, "Come again?" rather than "I beg your pardon?" or "excuse me," and I decided she was channeling him.

"He probably said that to me," she said. "I probably remember him saying, 'come again...'"

Whether or not it's true - there's peace in that. He's not so far, if his words are clinging to us...


We were walking. I don't remember where, now. And I can only guess what moved me to be so bold and him to tolerate it (me). 

P - Dad, do you feel like you are dying?

D -A little bit.

P- Are you scared?

D - No. ... I've had fun. I have a great family.

P ..

D - I think we should keep walking.

P - Okay. I just want you to know that we all love you. I just want you to know that if you feel like it's time to go, it's okay

D - oh. I don't think it's going to happen.

P - I just don't want you to suffer.

D - I'm not going to suffer.  Anyway, thank you for writing that all down.

P - What do you mean? What writing? (afraid he isn't making sense)

D - With a wry smile - Just now.

a few minutes later -

P- Why aren't you afraid?

D- I have nothing to be afraid of.