Sundown

Sundown: 

in this sundown time, lights dimming, approach of what can only be a final day - I listen to my father's cough, a growing symptom of heart failure, sensing the heavy strain each chest heave places on his now fragile body, feeling each cough as if it were my own. There is no getting better, no diet fix to ease congestion, no medicine to fix another symptom. He's dying. 

so near.

it could still be weeks a way, a few months, and of course I hope he makes a year. Time seems as fragile as he is right now. Each moment counts as more than just a time mark, it's about experiences, a note of intimacy in the casual check of mundane needs, my hand placed on his to steady in a task, the still easy flow of our conversation. 

still, I'm not always mindful, I often get overwhelmed by all that needs to be done, and I find myself selfish for even a little time of just my own. I recognize guilt, my own faults are glaring, and I implore myself to find a bit more patience. My father understands, and most of the time I do as well, giving in to stress, poorly hiding it, and quickly moving on. It's a small part of our routine, a seldom experience and still one we share together. It allows us both another moment of grace. 

in this sundown time, so much uncertain - everything counts. 

and this is what I'm most truly mindful of, with each experience being a first no matter how often it seems to be repeated. It's never been quite like this before, tending to a need with this awareness, and there's a quality to this twilight moment that offers its own sake of clarity. My father isn't dying alone, I'm his company, dying too, each moment a last, even as another's given. It's a string of pearls, seamless, seen magical in the quality of this light.

even as it dims. 

~

Peace, Eric