They didn’t make it another year together. Since then, Dad has been dying. Slowly. Dad said it best when mom died, it’s like two immensely strong trees grown together and ripped apart in one of life’s storms.
I mourn for mom in passing. I mourn for dad as important things in his life fall away. He might not fish or hunt again and I mourn. Walking the woods and hunting together is past and I mourn. Eating food is hard and firing up the grill or smoker for dad has lost it’s enjoyment. I mourn that. Enjoyment itself seems to be passing like a salmon arriving at its birthplace to lay eggs and die. There is no more will to fight the currents.
The hardest thing for me is the wilting of relationship. It’s not just dad’s fault. We are turning our heads away from each other viewing the tasks of living another day, week, month and maybe he will make it to Christmas. There is a shadow, a dark cloud in the way of talking deeply with one another and I mourn. Dad has turned his head toward eternity. He is like a farm horse headed to the barn at the end of a long workday. There’s no stopping that horse for anything and it can’t wait to get home to the barn. I’m not ready for that.
Today, I’ll get in the car and drive a few hours to see dad. It’s possible he may have much or little time left. I may have many or few visits left. I don’t know. All I know is that Dad is dying in dozens of ways, and that’s hard. I mourn.
I do take comfort in the fact that dad see’s eternity and there is light. Dad thinks eternities door is cracked open enough for light to spill out. He can almost look inside. He seems to be parked by the door while I want to take him for another boat ride and throw a few casts for fish while we talk. Oh, he can still do that physically but it’s not the same. He wants to see Jesus and hug mom again. I want him to hug me. So yes, I mourn.
This morning, as I drove to see dad, I gave him to God. I let a piece of me die. Oh, he won’t die forever. He is God’s you know. He knows. He always belonged to God as long as I have known him. I will just miss him. After another weekend visit, I will give dad a hug, say “bye for now dad”, you know just in case I need to wait for eternity to see him again.
I stand in dads yard and watch the sun set. What symbolism for my grief as well as my hope beyond this life. Tears come as I quietly whisper “bye for now dad”.
I know you are gone, along with so many others. Bye for now our parting words. I understand I’ll see you at the gate when time is over. Meanwhile, the moms who are here…We are celebrating life and doing something special today for all moms out there. I am also doing something special for the women of my life…Here is to you dear. Our kids even turned out exceptionally well. 
