Rest

I forgot one thing.

When dad was fighting to be able to breathe ...



... he said he was fighting the dragon.


***


Either I have made a horrible mistake, or the dragon is honoring the hero.



I put his ashes in the box today. It was an exact perfect fit. When I put the lid on, pushed its crease into the rim of the little clay bowl, a tiny grey puff arose. Breath of the dragon.



I wonder whether I have done a terribly wrong thing. Only one person who reads here can tell me. And I'm listening.


***


I miss you, dad.

It's hard, and it is harder without you. I'm sorry I made it harder for you, too.



All I could say. No prayer for this one.