Exhausted, 7.30 am

“And you, my father, there on the sad height,

Curse, bless, me now with your fierce tears, I pray.

Do not go gentle into that good night.

Rage, rage against the dying of the light.”

Dylan Thomas, Do not go gentle into that good night

And of all the gifts my father gave me, the final one was to let me be there to hold his hand. And he waited for a moment when I held no rage. Only love. Thanks Dad.

PS You can listen to Dylan Thomas (I’m pretty sure it’s him) read the poem here. It’s gorgeous.

0 thoughts on “Exhausted, 7.30 am”

  1. I’m so sorry.

    The memories and love I leave behind
    Are yours to keep
    I have found my rest; I have turned my face
    to the sun, and now I sleep.
    – Alan Curtis

  2. Only a couple of hours ago I was talking with someone who had a transplant this year about death and about my own father’s rage as he approached his … but he managed to get past that. I’m glad you were able to be there.

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