When my Dad passed away back in 2010, I was back home, here in Italy. I’d been back in the States during the month of September, the first time in thirty years. He’d been operated on and had his bladder removed. For a little while it looked as thought he had once again beat cancer and I enjoyed going around with him in the car and sitting with him next to his Japanese fish pond with its golden Buddha.
However, three days before I left, we discovered that that wasn’t the case.
He was back in hospital just before I left, we joked and laughed. He made light of his situation, though I think he was in pain and knew he was going to die, he hid it well. The day I had to leave I said: “Next time you’ll come and visit me in Italy!” and he replied: “You know, I don’t think I’ll be able to make that trip.”
All the family was around him when he passed away in December, except for me and my sister in Arizona. I was constantly in contact with my brother and sisters on Skype and when the moment came, it was almost like being there but not quite.
After years of living far away it’s like another long interval, like all those years before, for me he’s still alive, I just don’t know when I’ll see him again.
vigil without end
walking in memories
always vitally alive
© G.s.k. ‘15
and linked to Your Golden Buddha