Written on February 1, 2016 (5 days after)
Sitting in my cubicle, crying at my desk because my coworkers left me a sweet card with lots of handwritten notes.
Thinking about last words.
I got to the house. I kissed his cheek. He kissed my cheek for the first time in weeks. Usually he was asleep or too tired to do it. But that night he did.
He was semi-comatose. He didn’t really speak directly to anyone else except to say “let me out of here.”
I told him I love him. I told him Jasmine loves him.
I sang him “All Along the Watchtower.”
Before I left, I said, “I’ll see you soon. I love you.” I kissed his cheek.” He said, “I love you.”
I said, “I love you, Dad. I’ll see you soon.”
And that was the last time I saw him alive.
Semi-comatose, and he managed to give me one last “I love you.”
Thank you, Daddy. Thank you for that. I think you knew that would be the last one. I think you found the strength to give it to me.
I said I’d see you tomorrow. I said I’d see you soon.
It didn’t happen the way I thought it would. If I’d known, I would have stayed all night. I would have flown Jasmine in on a $1,000 flight.
It’s okay though. I may not have seen you the way I thought I would, or the way I wanted to, but I do see you. I see you everywhere.