| Subject: Letters to Samson - 20 |
Author:
Holly
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Date Posted: 11:14:40 08/12/06 Sat
In reply to:
Holly
's message, "Letters to Samson - 1" on 18:59:32 06/04/05 Sat
It's been a long month. A really long month. We went to Oklahoma, climbed Mount Scott (in a car), saw family, spent time with your grandparents, came back, got stranded in Chicago, landed in van hell - which is ongoing, went to the Children's Museum with Lily and Cat (and you ran off in a busy place for the first time), continued through van hell, and will be on our way to Kentucky soon.
My Dad died last night. It meant everything to him to get to see you last month, and it meant everything to me that he was able to enjoy it. I've seen it happen the other way, where the mind and soul depart, leaving behind the body that does not know how to stop. Or where only comprehension goes off on its own, fear and pain and confusion sticking it out like loyal dogs. Dad went more gently, fully present but tired of the struggle to breathe. So, he stopped.
I would not make a saint of him. Not even today. But there are a couple of things about him that I do want you to know.
The first is that when I was 8 and we were living in Korea, we didn't get to see Dad more than about every other weekend because of where he was stationed. He'd come down to Seoul when he could - and I would make instant coffee in the morning. I accidentally (don't remember how exactly) knocked a bouillon cube into his coffee and had a near nervous breakdown over it. He said it was okay, that he liked it spicy, and he drank instant coffee with bouillon until we all lived together again.
The second is that he used to sing to the dog. We had a collie mix with trauma issues. My parents eventually put him down after he bit one too many paperboys, a decision that provoked a screaming match between Dad and me that I remember to this day.
But Dad used to sing to that dog.
He would get his guitar, head downstairs, and the two of them would sit next to each other while Dad played and sang old bluegrass songs, spanish love songs, and Ghost Riders in the Sky.
And the dog loved it. I did, too.
Your grandfather had his fair share of problems, more than his fair share in some ways, maybe. But he had an essential kindness to him, a special sort of empathy and grace, that I will miss. You have some of that in you, too.
And I've seen you singing to the cat.
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