I sit beside my dad’s body.
All are gone. He is gone.
Just me, the shell of him, and history.
53 years of history.
An intermittent physical presence.
But a constant presence carried in me.

Now I will carry that history forward.
And in that history, those memories, my deeds, he will live on.
He will live on within me.
He will live on for others through my influenced deeds.
And I will upon future reflection learn yet more things not yet known from him.

He now lies covered up to his neck before me.
Tubes withdrawn, death having come peacefully within several minutes.
Only the side of his face. White, mottled. Slight white hair. Mouth slightly open, to be closed when I leave and he is reclined.
His head on a pillowcase with lace knitted by his mother before him.
The nurse Linda enjoyed the lace as her sister in learning how.

It is well that he died before me. I often feared his having to bury a second son.
Having cried several times alone, I think it best to think on what I learned from him.
It is in what we teach that we each live on.
And one thing I learned from his habit was dependability.
Another was humor.
Another the value of antiques and history.

Interrupted, the chaplains have now come and gone.
One Jewish, one Christian, fine since without Jews we would be not Christians.
The papers for the release of his body have be signed and delivered to them.
They will assure the nurse does not let me forget the pillow case for his wife who sat with him and lovingly stroked and kissed his head so tenderly after his body died.
A tender farewell after more than 45 years of marriage.

I am left to make my peace as best I can in my complex yet simple thinking.
Collect my things.
Have one last cry. Wipe my face.
Leave his body for others to handle.
And begin the rest of my life, the last survivor of my original core family.

But I am blessed with the company of my infinite wife to return to.
And comforted by the fact that my father was blessed with a good wife.
And certain through my many experience proving my faith that all of this terribly hard yet immensely beautiful life leads to a particularly special end well worth having.

Martin C. Boire
January 14, 2009, 8 p.m.
In Tampa General Hospital

In the fifth month of 1987 Janet and I met just beyond the steps of St. James,
and my bride made her face to shine upon me,
and I made mine to shine upon hers,
and we made our vows of years to come to one another.

in the presence of our friends we were married,
became man and wife and became one. 

We fully made love for the first time that night in a desert far away,
and have made love many times and many ways since,
and for that love have three beautiful children to show,
each a surprise, each loved, each loving.

And we have taught them and fought with them, watched them and ignored them,
been perplexed by them, worried by them, amazed and impressed by them,
and each will make their own journey through this complex affair of life, 
learning its infinite lessons, blessings and difficulties just as we all have.

And should anything ever happen to my wife
I will most likely not remarry,
and I will each day look upon the faces of my children,
and each day see that Janet my wife is yet with me. 

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