departures

On October 16th, at approximately 9:35 a.m., the wheels of my plane hit the runway in Los Angeles and I started to cry. Out of all the essentially irreversible moments which led to this one (robotically packing my bags in the darkness of early morning, driving my rental car across the long bridge between St. Petersburg and Tampa, every step I took getting to the terminal, walking to the gate, boarding the plane) it was touching down that somehow made my departure real - the last of a string of moments I could trace directly back to my living, breathing, father. Though the quality of his life is not what it was, I am comforted by the fact that he continues to exist. He is still on this planet, however changed, the last thread not yet broken, his departure made final.