DUSK AND SUMMER

I lost my father between dusk and summer.

Perhaps he left me long before I care to admit, long before he refused his last meals, long before his spent eyes flickered like candles behind cracked panes of some forlorn, abandoned house. Before his neglected muscles jellied into the folds of his stark white hospital sheet, and the rise of his chest grew shallow and weak. Maybe it was plain selfishness on my behalf - sitting at his bedside all those times, soothing his ears with encouragement as I held his hand, squeezing tight to impart the same courage and strength and determination he had infused into me over my years - even as he required my other hand to raise the flimsy plastic cup of ice water to his parched lips. Was I too scared to realize or too ignorant to ask just whose fight did this now become? Had the fog of war blinded me?

"...find me... from Tolten..."

I could have dismissed the words from his cracked lips as merely disoriented chatter, but his mouth pursed them too purposely, his tone too firm. Still, my father's words jolted me from my bedside vigil. I bent over his thinning form, promptly taking his hand into mine.

"...go... now," he croaked, his strength fading.

I held my breath; I dared not speak.

Gently, I massaged his fingers, marveling how thick and calloused they remained. How I would remain always a child within their clasp.Working man's hands, they were, unafraid of toil and unashamed of soil. My father squeezed back, eyes widening. His candlelight flared, sparked brilliantly a moment before blinking away. I knew then I had been wrong. Someone still remained home inside that deteriorating body. My father hung on, refusing to surrender. But what little had spilled from his lips now hung heavy between us. The message became clear. My father would not leave me.

Not until I finished his business.

My throat constricted; I choked back the uncomfortable heat swelling within my chest, gritted my teeth as tears welled in my eyes. I blinked furiously, suppressing the tears as best as I could. I raised my brow, easing him into continuing. One corner of his mouth curled. It gained momentum, spreading across his lips until his smile warmed me. From within his cocoon of pillows, my father nodded his approval.

I leaned close, carefully straightening the air tube protruding from his nose. Caressed his cheek, returning his smile as his short, white stubble tickled my palm. Swallowed another lump deeper into my throat. "Tell me what you want me to do, Pops," I said softly.

So he did.