Sailing Ship at Dusk

Dear Daniel and Dad,

It's almost two years since each of you passed, one by one. One of you expectedly, with time to say goodbye and confirm that I will see you again and that you rise to God, and one of you passed without any obvious warning. I would like to say that I am doing fine and that I have done well with the tasks you knowingly, and unknowingly left for me, but that would be a lie. Many times I know you are proud of me and that I do well caring for and guiding the people you love, and caring for the animals who remain here. Other times, particularly when I am ill, I am lost. Dad, I don't do as well as you in keeping up with all the secret charitable things you did while here. I also haven't kept up with your friends as well as I had hoped to. I try, but I fall short. Daniel, I try to move forward, care for James, and of course, support the other kids, your biological siblings, in their lives, challenges and adjustments, but I don't always know what to say, or what to do. I work hard on the animals especially, because I know how much you love them. I do my best but I have been overwhelmed with the Lyme disease, and I have delegated many things this week. Sometimes I feel that you are each on a ship together which slowly drifts farther and farther from me while I am stuck in a shanty seedy port city. I miss seeing you each in dreams and I don't know whether this is because I am sick and can't hold onto REM sleep when I am most likely to hear from you, or whether you have now drifted or are visiting a place where I can't hear you, at least not as well. I love you both so much. I love you both wider than the oceans and deeper than the seas.









I have included the song above, The Physician, a Cole Porter song sung by Gertrude Lawrence,because before my father died,in his private room in the ICU, I sang this softly to him. The song always had special meaning to him,being a fan of Gertride Lawrence, Noel Coward and Cole Porter. It will now always have a special meaning to me as well.