Phew. I Made It! (...said from the deathbed)

In my last post I mentioned 'posting' this chapter from my book, Am I Dead Yet?
It still seems up for me, this illusive idea of some sort of survival mechanism from death?
...So, here it is.

(P.S...all my prompts for my blog are now in Spanish!!! So I am never 'really' sure quite what will happen!)   :0)


PHEW:

Phew.  I made it! (said from the death bed)

Isn't it interesting that we spend so much, all?, of our lives trying to survive so that we can be relieved on our death bed that we made it?!

Maybe this is a futile attempt at expressing the unexpressable.

But.

I watched my father...I could use me and may...and, right now, I'll use him.

I watched my father, after mom died, go to heroic lengths to finally 'make it' to his death bed....heroically!  (See:  "Well Guys, I'm Going To Die Tonight.)

He pool exercised, often twice a day, even in 58 degree water to 'outsmart', to beat, the effects of Parkinsons, the effects of the aging body of a 90+ year old.  He had regular deep body work with a friend of mine which often left him exhausted.  He went to physical therapy.  He begged his neurologist  to have him be a guinea pig for experimental brain surgery.  He would have done ANYTHING to prolong "making it" to his death bed.

Bless his heart.

How I miss this man.  Love this man.  Because of this I think he is with me more than when he was here.

One talks about 'Keep on keeping on'.  He was the king of keep on keeping on.  He was the model for 'passion for life'.  

How could I possibly judge him?

Why would I?

Did I?

Yes.

I did.

Near the end.  Certainly, the last year.

Dad, let go.  Give it up.  You won't win this battle.

SO much will to live.  Like the new young tree growing out of the seemingly dead stump.

Reasons to live.  The last one:  buy a new helicopter for the business.  It wasn't about rationale.  It was about a reason to live.  Something to look forward to.  Scorpio intensity.  He could sit in it.  He could be a passenger in it.  Heartwrenchingly, he could not fly it.

I think he ran out of reasons to perpetuate himself:

---Burt, the quintessential pilot.

---Burt, the quintessential employer.

---Burt, the generous father, grandfather, great grandfather.

---Burt, the willing guinea pig.

---Burt, the battler of Parkinsons.

---Burt, the battler of aging.

---Burt, the buyer of new helicopters.

What happened?

Was it running out of reasons?

Did he just finally get tired?

Finally see the futility?

Made a decision to stop?

Stop trying to 'make it' til the death bed?

Let whatever Burt was, go?

Bless his heart.

Bless his heart.

Bless his heart.

Bless our hearts.

Bless my heart.

Bless your heart.

Is this the 'die before you die'?

I think so.

Yes.  

Can I?

Die before I die?

Stop?

Quit trying to 'make it'?