Today in honor of my dad, I wish to share a story of a different kind of journey. Today was the day I lost my dad. It was close to sunset and my family and I watched him struggle to breathe knowing it wouldn't be much longer before it stopped. We cried quietly and held each other. My step-mom stroked his head and held his hand when he took his last breath. I remember how quiet the room got. We all just stopped, staring in wonder at how different the room felt. He wasn't there.
I remember clearly walking to the window where the blinds had been shut and I opened them. I was thinking about Italy and how the literal translation of giving birth means to bring to the light. I stared out the window, a little numb and thinking that dad had just been born in a different way. He had transitions from life to death but now in the hands of his angels. I watched the sun slowly set and could almost picture him crossing into the light, entering into a new journey. I heard the quiet crying behind me while a couple family members shared a few stories of his life. We laughed a little, cried more. I stayed by the window and as the sun lowered behind the horizon, I murmured quietly to dad, "welcome to the light."
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