Posted 09-08-2013 at 11:30 PM bywiscsober (Gee Bee's Sober Life)
I always wondered and never knew.
The seconds before my father died.
He reached out for something.
His trembling hands held above his chest.
Us children thought maybe it was for us.
It was more than that. And then his hands
fell to his chest. He gave one last breath.
“Travel is fatal to prejudice, bigotry, and narrow-mindedness.” – Mark Twain
Insanity is living in Wisconsin and thinking it won't be cold in April. Damn it's cold.
I arrived home to yesterday afternoon greeted by a friend. Indeed he is a good friend. I made sure my sons knew I got back safely. It was pure joy visiting them. I am a proud father. Twice in the last nine months, sober, I have visited them. The trip might have come off if I had been drinking, but I can’t...