Letting Go: Farewell to my Father

A year ago today, at an intensive care unit in a New York City hospital, I placed my left hand on my Dad’s heart just as he died. The rush of energy that flowed through me at that moment is as unforgettable as the spirit of the man who fathered me into this world, a gentleman who always did his best to provide his family with support and love.

Today, on this anniversary of his passing, I lit a candle that will burn for 24 hours in his memory, illuminating the very last photograph I took of him alive. In quiet reflection I wonder how it is ever possible to let someone like him go completely—to accept fully his death—to let the parts of him that I still may harbor in myself move up and out of me, allowing for his souls own completion in whatever state of grace it finds itself in now. And letting go, must go both ways, for my soul too needs to find wholeness as a still living being on this planet.

Mother turned 85 years old this November, and me, 50. For our birthdays, we decided to skydive for the very first time. It was something she always wanted to do, but knowing it would scare my father to death, waited until he actually was gone to do it.

For me leaping out of a plane 14000 feet about the earth, was in many ways an experience as close to dying as I ever had before. In fact, there was much about it that mirrored Dad’s experience of a year ago; the intense aloneness (even while in the company of others, it was something ultimately each of us had to do ourselves), the newness of sensation (our bodies were experiencing things they had never suffered before, for me it was falling at 120 mph for 7000 feet) and the disconnection (we both had left the grounded-ness of the earth, for me, it manifested mostly as floating through large billowing clouds).

In reality, I was just a few threads of parachute cord and nylon material away from truly experiencing my own demise as well.

In a few hours the memorial candle will go out.

For Mother and me and our family, these two intense, life-altering experiences are behind us now. We must each, for ourselves; continue to say YES to life, to live each moment like it was our last, to acknowledge with love our own true beings and to hold these fragile and magnificent mortals, gently, for the rest of our days.


jdcarlson2001@yahoo.com

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