44 years ago today, my father died. He did not remain dead, but I needed to remind him of the reasons to live. He told me today he returned to the scene after waking up at 04:00, when I did. Maybe that explains my waking, and an ominous feeling..
It was a shock when I saw him. He was wandering around aimlessly, obviously not in his body. He was NOT supposed to be here.
“What are you doing here? You need to go back, and be my father, just as we planned!”
“I’m tired. I hurt. I don’t want to go back to a broken body.”
“But you need to go back! We agreed!”
My father first got really sick in 1992, when I was hundreds of miles away going to college in Rexburg, Idaho. When I crashed out of school and took the rebound to community college, I came home one day to see him carried out on a stretcher into an ambulance.
Almost two decades passed and he got really, really sick again. As in deathly ill. He could barely move and…
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