The Voyage

It feels like this old ship is sinking.

Just about the time we think we have everything under control, we realize all the treatments have little to no effect. I called you this morning and your loss of words has not improved.  You seem to comprehend everything, but the ability to communicate is a lost art.

We will continue to address everything we can, but I think this is the stage called "Acceptance."

Not you, but me.

I am accepting this truly is bigger than me, and this ride of life has taken a detour I never anticipated.

I don't know what is easier - the sudden loss, or the gradual one.

This is selfish, but I feel like a part of me is going away with you. 

I have always been my father's son, and when you are gone, it feels like that part of me will be gone also.  Perhaps that is a part of the grieving - we are losing some of our own identity when we lose someone close to us.

I am not giving up, but sometimes it is hard - especially when your (not mine) wife is so negative, sees no hope, and complains ALL THE TIME about having to help you. She doesn't make it easy, and you have talked with me about how you can tell she does things out of obligation, rather than love. I know this is why you want to do all you can to be independent.

How strong you are to continue with your goodness, and not become bitter.

Perhaps this old ship is sinking.

A mighty vessel once, glorious in her day, master of all in sight.  The scars are memories, imprinted deep within the hull, all the way to the heart.  Memories of battles, of adventures, of a life lived to the fullest.  Central America, Europe, Asia, the Caribbean, Alaska, and much of the United States, what great memories.

This old ship is struggling on that last trip home.

We gather around, the new fleet, escorting you home.  There are newer, faster, and more advanced vessels, but none with your honor.  This is not about us, it is about you.

As we approach the home port, and the welcome home begins, the skies will fill with wonderous celebration, the crowds and witnesses that went before you will cheer and welcome you home.

And we, your escorts, will fade away.  Only you, and the majesty of your return home will be as joyful as your maiden voyage years ago.

Rest easy, your journey home has started.