Reflections from the Last Few Days

I’ve concentrated these posts on the travel & walking, shortchanging some other cultural observations, like food, drink, etc. As we are now headed back to Lisbon, those things may get more attention.

Events elsewhere have colored our experience here. This next part is personal. Some reader may find it interesting, or in the future we may appreciate the reminder of these things.

Jan & Bruce have been particularly concerned about the impact of Hurricane Helene the last few days.

A couple weeks before we left & just before his 96th birthday, my dad began hospice care. We went to see him on his birthday. It was not at all clear that he was any closer to death.

On our first day here we were shocked to learn that a beloved friend since college died due to consequences of cancer. Our thoughts the first two days were on Terry, her family, and our mutual friends. She was active, adventurous, loving, fun, and until last spring, healthy. She’s on the left in this photo.

Thursday, Dad’s wife Leona emailed he’d taken a turn, with severe abdominal pain. He was getting morphine & moved to a hospital bed in the living room Friday. Many of my family members were able to visit yesterday. Sometime last night he died.

I have a Facebook friend who types carpe diem on every post, and at least one other who regularly writes references to the shortness of life. I agree with them, but generally prefer to hold the sentiment in mind and embody it in action more than I express it in words. “Words are no deeds” and like Thoreau perhaps “My life has been the poem I would have writ/But I could not both live and utter it.” (Without my dad’s influence I might not know Shakespeare or Thoreau or be in Portugal enjoying the scenery the wine & the seafood).

I kind of force-fit poems into some earlier posts because they were part of the posts I made in Scotland. Then I was tired & this typing is work & I stopped. Dad is also the main source of my poetry interest.

When I got the turn for the worse news, I thought of Bruce Springsteen’s song “My Father’s House.” There ought to be a better tribute to Dad, more on target, but that song was in my head all day yesterday.

My mind drifted back. There was a different song on repeat every day, for whatever reason or no particular reason. If you like you could play “Your Dad Did” with my in Porto post, 9/21.