We are gathering documentation today to prove who Dad was and that he is gone.
The irony leaves me breathless. I am tempted to write so very much more here, but I must refrain. I am too tired, for I had to pick up and open his wallet today.
It was at least ten billion solar masses heavy.
He loved his bike. Bikes equalled freedom and joy to him. I’d brought the wallet to him when he was in ICU, unresponsive, those final days. When I placed it in his hand I swear there was a reflexive response. I’d told him he would be using it again soon.
