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Archive Number 2459 | ||
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Date: Tue, 7 Jan 2003 11:53:37 EST
Cristy: Your comment reminds me of my Dad's attempts at the end of his life to create some meaning and coherence to his story. He, too, had all sorts of memories, weaving them into a narrative that helped him (and me) to especially put together all the losses in his life. I remember one of the last walks that we took. Dad was in and out of infarct dementia at the time, besides grieving heavily over the recent death of my younger brother. He took me down a few blocks to what had been the last original farmhouse in our subdivision. He had vivid memories of the onion fields where now stand dozens of single family houses. In his personal time frame, the changes were happening in a rapid and fluid manner, he could see the houses change right in front of him. He then entered into a dialogue between he, me and God about my brother's life and death. He invited his own death as the next logical chapter in the story and bequeathed the tale to me. I fully believe that he could not let go of the miserably painful life he was in until he brought his story to a satisfactory conclusion. Anyway, that's the memory, or at least the part I want to share right now. Les | ||