the Fremont canal

The past few days have been perfect in Seattle, weather-wise. The sun has been shining and the temperature has been in the mid-60s with the colored leaves falling all around.

I decided to take a walk in my neighborhood, Fremont, down to the canal. I stopped at a bench, sat, and reflected on things.

I had started turning to my father for wisdom in decisions this year, something I hadn't done for a long time. He kept surprising me with his discernment. I should've given him those chances years earlier. Now that I am on this path, this Failure Road, I wish I could call him and ask him what to do. He would probably surprise me with just the right answer.

The last time I saw him healthy was when I came to Corpus for his retirement. When I had my random move-for-a-month to Denton in May, I decided Corpus was too far to drive for a visit and I didn't make it to Corpus during that time before moving back to Seattle. An opportunity missed.

I hope it is still awhile before I begin to forget...his voice, what his hands looked like. Right now I can remember so clearly that it makes his death seem not real. Like I could just pick up the phone and he'd say, "Hel-LO?" in the way only he did. Instead, I picked up the phone and was informed by an operator that his number is no longer in service. Indeed.

But for now, I remember.