At the end of his life, my dad became so sick over the course of a few weeks that he was unable to talk. Unable to think. Barely able to move.
Yet in those final days and hours, I found that if I just sat by him, just breathed by him, if we just... were... together, there was a part of him that was not gone. There was still a relationship there, still communication between us. There was still love.
Our love created a connection that was tangible, that filled the room when words and gestures couldn't.
I've been thinking about this a lot this week, and I figure that once we strip everything else away...
Once we recognize that damn near everything else in this life is just window dressing...
...that this is the essence of what it means to be alive, what it means to connect with each other here on Earth.
It is our purpose and the light to our path.
I miss my dad terribly, but I feel so thankful to have had that brief time with him. It was the purest and the best time we ever had together. No fear of saying the wrong thing, no awkward pauses, no distance.
Just love.
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