God in whose arms rock me throughout all my bouts of tears, I abide in pain as I watch my dad struggle to draw breath after breath.
He was with me throughout my first sleep-deprived nights and now I sit with him through his final sleeps. His tears flowed in my struggles; my well of lamentation has now run dry of liquid grief watching his body’s strength evaporate before me.
I ache for the days when I could hear his voice, see him write on a piece of paper, listen to his monotone singing.
Those moments can only be found in my rear view mirror.
As the aches of my heart pass along to my mind and spread fatigue throughout my body, give me the balm I need to survive these next hours.
Together, Holy One, we will continue to linger on every sacred breath, every twitch of his face. Even as his body is minimally alive, I bask in the radiating sunset of his soul, cherishing the last few moments of summertime innocence.