Saying Goodbye

I am writing this on June 9th, but am having a problem with my Internet connection and am not sure when I can actually post. I only mention this because the date is important to me--my father died two months ago. In an earlier post, I mentioned that my brother, mother and I went down to Stuart, FL to deal with the immediate aftermath of his death. Last Saturday, I went down alone to prepare to put his condo on the market, etc.

I expected to have to empty out the condo; I found that in Florida it's acceptable to leave furniture, linens and kitchen accessories in a unit for sale, so I did. It made my life much easier. I got rid of the remaining personal items, taking home some photographs and documents, throwing out others, donating some items to Treasure Coast Hospice Thrift Shop and leaving the rest.

This morning I sat in the living room across from the china cabinet, by far the nicest piece of furniture. It's flanked by two professional photographs I had bought Dad. One is of a cottage in Ireland; the other of Sherlock Holmes' pub, where we had lunch in London almost thirty years ago. I had planned to take these photographs with me, but they seemed to be right where they belonged.

I looked out on his lanai, the old porch he had remodeled. He loved to sit out there with his evening vodka and club enjoying the blooming bougainvillea.

I walked into the guest bedroom where I always stayed on my visits and made sure I didn't leave anything behind.

I took a last look at his bedroom; it seemed dark and lonely.

Back in the living room, I said goodbye.

This wasn't a final goodbye to my father. We are having a memorial party for him in one of his favorite hangouts in New Jersey next month. And there's the distribution of his ashes (exact time and place to be determined.)

And who knows, maybe I'll continue to hold conversations with him. (I recently met someone who regularly consults his dead father and then gets signs telling him what choice to make.)

Regardless, today is my goodbye to my father and his life in Stuart. I am tearing up as I write this--wishing I had made one more visit, thinking about Jeff's and my plan to spend Christmas 2010 with him. It's easy to overflow with regrets. Let me just say that I'm sorry about missed visits, but I always thought I had more time.

Now I have all the time in the world to miss him.