The loss of a parent. This resonated with me.

"It is not just about the desire of the living to resuscitate the dead but about the ways in which the dead drag us along into their shadowy realm because we cannot let them go. So we follow them into the Underworld, descending, descending, until one day we turn and make our way back."

An excerpt appears in The New Yorker Magazine
Story's End - Writing a Mother's Death
by Meaghan O'Rourke

Damn that's good writing. I couldn't have said it better myself. A woman writes about her mother's death from Cancer.

Reading this brought me back to the days of driving my dad to doctor's appointments, when he was diagnosed with Bladder Cancer, radiation treatments, chemo, days spent in the hospital by his bedside...all of those memories came bubbling up to the surface.

It all happened so fast. He was dead a year after being diagnosed with Cancer. I'm still digesting and going over every detail in my mind, as if I could have averted what happened in the end - my dad dying.

There are days I am driving home and I get this pang in my chest that reminds me that I haven't seen my dad in awhile and that I should go see him. Pay him a visit. It happens all in a split nanosecond. That's when it hits me that I can't see my dad because he's dead.

It's been 8 months since my dad died. I still find myself in tears just about everyday at random moments of the day. There are times when I feel like he's with me. Times I'm driving by myself with the radio on and I swear it feels like he's sitting next to me in the passenger seat (just like all those times I drove him out to the VA Hospital). Or the time I was teaching my 5 year old daughter how to ride a bike. I felt his presence with us and was so sad he couldn't be there alive to see it. My daughter was in tears when she rode by me and said, "I miss Grandpa. I wish he didn't die." She felt it too.

That metaphor of following the dead into the Underworld and descending and descending is so dead on. My loved one died. He was my father. The first hurt was when his mind was going, the second when his physical body died. It's unthinkable to let him go. I'm the keeper of his memories. The last one who can prove he existed and tell you how much he meant to me. I can't abandon him. So I keep following him, while looking back the way I came. How much further before I have to turn back?

And the pain continues.

I miss my dad's voice, I miss him saying my name and his laughter and his jokes, and his warm, bear hugs. I even miss the feel of the stubble on his cheeks. I miss that he's not here to see his granddaughter grow (something that made him happy - He loved being a Grandpa). I read a blog post from a number of years back when my dad told me that he hoped he would live long enough for my daughter (his granddaughter) to remember him. And I know he hung on for as long as he did for us kids (my brother & I).

I'll follow you for as long as I can Dad, yet I know at some point I'll have to turn and make my way back. It doesn't mean I love you any less. And it will pain me to do so. The one comfort I have is knowing I will see you again when it's my time. We will hold hands like we always did and I'll have no reason to be afraid.

No weddings and a funeral

U.'s father passed away rather unexpectedly. He had been in the hospital for a brain tumor and had surgery - but was recuperating and walking around. The day before he was to be released from the hospital he had a lung embolism. Just like that - the hospital staff found him not breathing and after an hour and a half of trying to resuscitate him, they let him go. The irony is that the day before he had a really great day.

When it rains it pours...
After finding out about his father's death, U. was unable to reach his mother to tell her the news - only to find she too was in the hospital. This time in the ICU - her liver shut down due to cancer that up until this point had been responding well to the surgery/chemo but came back in full force. So she had to have another surgery. The irony here is that her boyfriend who is recovering from a heart attack is taking care of her - when he should be taking care of himself. Getting old just plain sucks doesn't it?

We were planning on going to Germany this October (our flight has already been booked), but due to the family emergency, U. is in Germany now to attend his father's funeral, see all his long lost relatives, and to give comfort to his mother and see how long she has to live. Unlike four weddings and a funeral - this ain't no comedy and there's no frolicking to be had. I hope that U. gets reacquainted with some cousins his age and they go out drinking one night to at least have some lightheartedness - rather than just grief and family crap.

He'll be gone a week, and it's just bad timing all around. As if there could ever be a good time for death and terminal cancer. Oh me oh my. Astrid's 1st school performance is on Thursday and it kills U. that he won't be able to attend. So I'll be there with our video camera filming it all - so we can watch it together when he gets back this weekend.

Last I heard from U. he was in Amsterdam - on a sad note there was no Eurotrash MTV to watch in his hotel room - even sadder the conversion rate - 300 Dollars equals 165 Euros - but he did get to walk around the city for 4 hours and ate some yummy fries with mayo (that he loves but doesn't get to eat in the US) and was getting ready to drive to his home town in Germany.

A great big hug and kiss to U. Have a safe journey and do not let the family drive you batty! You're always in our thoughts...

In Blog, a Military Man Writes About His Own Death

Photo by: Danny Dinges

"Only the dead have seen the end of war." - Plato

The New York Times

By BRIAN STELTER
Published: January 7, 2008

Andrew Olmsted, a United States Army major who wrote an online blog for The Rocky Mountain News, prepared for the possibility of his death by writing a 3,000-word piece.

“I’m dead,” he wrote in July 2007 as he arrived in Iraq for an 18-month tour of duty. “But if you’re reading this, you’re not, so take a moment to enjoy that happy fact.”

The major, who was 38, was killed Jan. 3 by small-arms fire from insurgents in Sadiyah, 100 miles northeast of Baghdad. The next day, a fellow blogger published Major Olmsted’s eloquent essay, leading to an outpouring of comments from more than 1,000 readers. His blog became exponentially more popular in death than in life, garnering more than 100,000 page views on Saturday.

Major Olmsted was one of the first “milbloggers,” an Internet term for members of the military who blog. Thousands of readers had followed his posts for more than five years, first on AndrewOlmsted.com and later on the Web site of The Rocky Mountain News, a newspaper in Colorado.

While bloggers have died in war zones before, several prominent military bloggers said they could not recall any previous instances of posthumous blog entries.
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Blogging from the grave
"As with many bloggers, I have a disgustingly large ego, and so I just couldn't bear the thought of not being able to have the last word if the need arose. Perhaps I take that further than most, I don't know. I hope so.

Believe it or not, one of the things I will miss most is not being able to blog any longer. The ability to put my thoughts on (virtual) paper and put them where people can read and respond to them has been marvelous, even if most people who have read my writings haven't agreed with them. If there is any hope for the long term success of democracy, it will be if people agree to listen to and try to understand their political opponents rather than simply seeking to crush them. While the blogosphere has its share of partisans, there are some awfully smart people making excellent arguments out there as well, and I know I have learned quite a bit since I began blogging.

Blogging put me in touch with an inordinate number of smart people, an exhilarating if humbling experience."

He specifically asked that his death not be used for political purposes
"I do ask (not that I'm in a position to enforce this) that no one try to use my death to further their political purposes. I went to Iraq and did what I did for my reasons, not yours. My life isn't a chit to be used to bludgeon people to silence on either side. If you think the U.S. should stay in Iraq, don't drag me into it by claiming that somehow my death demands us staying in Iraq. If you think the U.S. ought to get out tomorrow, don't cite my name as an example of someone's life who was wasted by our mission in Iraq. I have my own opinions about what we should do about Iraq, but since I'm not around to expound on them I'd prefer others not try and use me as some kind of moral capital to support a position I probably didn't support. Further, this is tough enough on my family without their having to see my picture being used in some rally or my name being cited for some political purpose. You can fight political battles without hurting my family, and I'd prefer that you did so.

On a similar note, while you're free to think whatever you like about my life and death, if you think I wasted my life, I'll tell you you're wrong. We're all going to die of something. I died doing a job I loved. When your time comes, I hope you are as fortunate as I was."

Speaking to the circumstances of his own death
"I suppose I should speak to the circumstances of my death. It would be nice to believe that I died leading men in battle, preferably saving their lives at the cost of my own. More likely I was caught by a marksman or an IED. But if there is an afterlife, I'm telling anyone who asks that I went down surrounded by hundreds of insurgents defending a village composed solely of innocent women and children. It'll be our little secret, ok?"

His very personal & heartbreaking message to his wife Amanda of 10 years
"This is the hardest part. While I certainly have no desire to die, at this point I no longer have any worries. That is not true of the woman who made my life something to enjoy rather than something merely to survive. She put up with all of my faults, and they are myriad, she endured separations again and again...I cannot imagine being more fortunate in love than I have been with Amanda. Now she has to go on without me, and while a cynic might observe she's better off, I know that this is a terrible burden I have placed on her, and I would give almost anything if she would not have to bear it. It seems that is not an option. I cannot imagine anything more painful than that, and if there is an afterlife, this is a pain I'll bear forever.

I wasn't the greatest husband. I could have done so much more, a realization that, as it so often does, comes too late to matter. But I cherished every day I was married to Amanda. When everything else in my life seemed dark, she was always there to light the darkness. It is difficult to imagine my life being worth living without her having been in it. I hope and pray that she goes on without me and enjoys her life as much as she deserves. I can think of no one more deserving of happiness than her.

"I will see you again, in the place where no shadows fall."Ambassador Delenn, Babylon 5

I don't know if there is an afterlife; I tend to doubt it, to be perfectly honest. But if there is any way possible, Amanda, then I will live up to Delenn's words, somehow, some way. I love you."

His wish to have his last blog post published in the event of his death

In March Major Olmsted approached his friend Hilary Bok, a professor at Johns Hopkins University, and asked if she would publish a post for him if he died during the war. She said she immediately agreed. He sent a rough draft at the beginning of June, and kept redrafting until July 15, the day he arrived in Baghdad.

“When I first read it, I cried,” Ms. Bok said.

Click here to read the entire 3,000 word final post.