He knew.
When we visited in April he was so happy to see us,
The wood pile for our evening patio fire gathered long before.
At last the day came.
Our time together seemed to stretch out forever and a day.
We three were so close, talking after dinner,
Me just coming into his life so late,
Him talking at length about the most personal things,
Reviewing the ups and downs of his life for us.
You had never heard him talk this way.
You listened amazed
To hear him speak so openly from the heart.
Now you'd like to listen again and again to what he said that night.
That he knew.
That’s what you think now, looking back.
In early June you made the first urgent flight
In a state of shock
Not knowing if he would survive the emergency surgery.
In early July his time is running out like an hourglass at the end,
You are making your second urgent flight today
In a state of grief
Not knowing if he will last until you reach his bedside.
You are going to thank him for sending the letter four years ago
That began the healing between father and daughter long estranged.
Since then you both have had four wonderful unexpected years
Enjoying your weekly calls and visits twice a year.
What he knew.
No one knows in a scientific way about the future.
It’s a feeling we have, unspoken but quite certain.
Your father is a very determined man.
He would move mountains to make things right for you.
From that surgery there would be no recovery.
It takes the doctors four weeks to reach this conclusion.
Your Dad knew it sooner, before anyone else.
In June he said good-bye to you and you didn’t want to hear it.
Now your heart is flooded with grief as the end is near.
I am with you in spirit, your sister is there waiting for you.
I hope you two will grow closer marking his final days together
Now that acceptance and final good-bye is what you must do.
