Everyone Dies Alone

“It’s true.” I curl into myself, and try not to want the comfort of a strong arm around my body. I stare at the feet of the man on the screen, and suddenly he’s there. Avery Fisher hall, Lincoln Center, and that look of tearful pride that comes streaming through his eyes. Then he’s on a cot in the family room of my old house. It’s like I can feel the cold and stiff of death invading my body. I have not stood at the foot of this cot in quite some time. Even on that morning, it did not seem so vivid. The memory is but a second, and I shiver to shake it off.

“No matter where [he] is, [he] will always be your [father].” And I’m back at Lincoln Center, humbling myself to a memory as I bow to a face that is not there.