A little over a year ago, Bob and I sold our home in Seattle and drove across country to live with my father in Riverwoods, Illinois—a suburb of Chicago. We hoped for a few years time with him—but that was not to be. Instead, most of our year was spent alone. He left too soon.

For the last year, the home my parents built has been our place of refuge, comfort and beauty. A gift. A chance to live in their world as we let them go. Now that has also come to an end. Their house is sold, their possessions divided—and while I have nothing good to say about this ending, I am deeply grateful to have had what little time I had with my father and the opportunity to live in this very special place he and my mother created.

The photo above was take two days before he left us. It was a peaceful moment with him engrossed in what had become a favorite pastime—roaming the internet in search of animal videos, politics and jokes.

On the eve of our departure from this place, I want to share my father’s words. Words I had not read before but found scribbled on a piece paper I came upon as I went through his things. Words he wrote about the loss of my mother, the person he loved most in life.

———-

Midnight

Spring has arrived but
winter forgot to leave.
The flowers are late for school and
graduation will be delayed.

It is late at night and I cannot sleep.
Someone knocks on my door,
I hear a friendly voice.
“Come on in”, I say. “Pull up a chair”.
We sit around the table and have a few drinks
We talk about the past and wonder about the future.

He asks me, “what  are you doing here” and I say
“I am doing my time!”
This house is a minimum security prison.
There is no guard, gate or wall, but I stay here all the while.

My friend used to live here with me.
But she left some time ago and forgot to take her things.

I’ve been keeping her belongings, hoping she will return.
Days, months and years have past and I have no news.
She may be lost, sick or kidnapped.

I am tired of waiting.
I think I’ll get my shoes and backpack and start walking.
Maybe along the way I will find her again.

It is late at night and I cannot sleep.
The sky is getting light and the stars are fading.
Tomorrow is here already and I greet the sunshine.