AT 81 years of age, my father has lived a full life, and one that is admirable and filled with love, though unspoken most of the times but always felt.
He was a quiet man with a booming voice, towering above us all 5 boys of his, and impressing us with legal brilliance during his time. He had wanted — like all fathers — the best for each one of us, desiring one of us to follow his footsteps, but never pressuring any of us. He supported us well into our adulthood … and now, here he is, laying in a hospital bed far removed from his familiar comforts, and being supported by machines.
As age creeps in, with all the wear and tear of his body, we have submitted ourselves to the Will of a Higher Power: to guide his journey, to ease his pain, and to make him feel how much he is loved by his children.
Oh sure we await for a miracle … but the Breath of Life is never dictated upon but welcomed in each moment of our lives.
As I ponder on my dad’s mortality, so do I find the reflection of my soul. We all leave this earth of our birth, and we are defined not just by our thoughts and deeds, but by the children we have raised, the lives we have touched, and the love we have shared.
In the end, all I could ever say it …