Of Loss

Dad in 1962, I was born in 1965 On Thursday I found out that my father, who was hospitalized on Wednesday, was moving to Hospice Care on Friday morning, with “not long” as the prognosis thence.

This was a sad thing, but not unexpected.

Dad had been in and out of the hospital all year and was in pretty frail shape.

The years had not been kind to him. Suffering badly from bipolar disorder (also known as manic-depressive disorder) this was an illness that caused great issues mentally, emotionally, and physiologically. I know that he felt it, but I can not imagine what is like, to be a “captive of my own mind, unable to control or direct my own thoughts nor body.” The medicines that have been used over the years to moderate this condition were, themselves, another necessary curse. I believe it is only in the last few years that progress is really being made to find ways of dealing with these conditions without causing horrid other problems.

Eventually, on Friday evening, he passed quietly and peacefully onto wherever his next home is.

I am happy that he is now finally finding comfort and rest, and I assume spending time in ways more pleasant than he has desired to do in many a year.

Father was an intensely sweet and caring person.

Before his illness took over completely he was a truly brilliant and elegant man. Classically educated, wordly, voluntarily involved with various services.

His entire adult life he was an educator, eventually retiring after being a high school vice principal for many a year. He was continually involved with theater, both as an actor and a director, this was something he shared closely with my older sister but that I never really tapped into.

While I was in my “service years” – stationed far and away while in the Army it was a very rare week that I did not get a nice letter from Dad and while I was (and am) a horrid pen-pal he was steadfast and it was so very appreciate. I had many lonely times in those years and he was always there, even from a distance.

I would never go so far to say as he and I were as close as he and my sister was, but I love him deeply to this day and will continue to do so I am sure.

Good journeys, my “Bilbo”, see you when I follow you into the West some time hence.

*sigh*

Yet, apparently, this was not enough for the universe to share with me last week.

On Friday afternoon, while at work, I found out that a friend of mine who I like to call “good” and whom I had strangely enough become more friends with after he moved from Austin to Denver, passed away in the night, in his sleep, on Thursday.

As it turns out, Anthony apparently died from a condition related to an enlarged heart, with no more information really available. However the coroner apparently is confident that he died quietly and painless in his sleep.

Anthony you will be sadly missed, for quite some time.

My heart weeps for Anthony’s family, close friends (especially Dave M.) and his Best Girl Carrie.

For those of you not familiar with him, you are still fortunate in that you may get to know him somewhat. Point your web browser at www.anthonysloan.com and spend some time. Then go back and spend some more. Look at his writings, and his travels.

This shocked me. And rocked me. This was not expected, nor acceptable, and is still being worked on to be accepted by my heart.

I feel loss, but I am getting past the frustration and anger at the universe for this. I guess it really is, somehow, the natural order of things. It must be, as Anthony passed, apparently quietly, in his sleep.

In the morning, we ride.

This is how he would want it.

This is how it should be.

This is how it must be.