(no subject)
First and probably only place today I'll say this. My dad died today, around five p.m. I was there yesterday. Last words he heard from me was that he was loved, so I'm okay on the whole last words business.
I was prepared for this. I feel strangely detached. T and I have been talking about him the last few hours. It makes me feel quite good to hear about his life from T's perspective: a guy who did whatever the hell he wanted, when he wanted, and had fun. I think this is more than true, and I think the myth of my dad will grow until he becomes the coolest piratey unknown grandfather ever from the point of view of his prospective grandchildren.
Heartbreaking as it is, he stroked me on the cheek again yesterday and I know we both felt loved. I am happy he was aware of my presence and my words the last time I saw him. He had 80 years, some more remarkable than others, but all in all I think the scales tipped in favour of a pretty awesome life.
That is all. For those of you who drink (and those on water etc) you are very welcome to lift your glass to a life well lived, a globe explored, and a spirit that will be missed. Cheers.
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