He was dying and I missed the bus

On Friday morning, when my father’s nursing home called and advised that we come as soon as possible, I was at home in Kaaawa without a car. After dressing and walking quickly down to the bus stop on Kamehameha Highway near the post office, I was a minute too late. The 11:01 a.m. bus slid through Kaaawa and headed off towards Kaneohe while I was still a block away. It was a short block, but at that moment it seemed like the longest block in the world.

I was frantic. For nearly two years, we’ve known he could die at any time, but he didn’t. Then, when the day actually arrives, I wasn’t ready, and I wanted to kick myself for being caught unprepared.

Deep breath. A half-hour to go. You just have to wait. Calm down, I said to myself.

[text]So we crossed the street, myself and I, and sat on the seawall behind Swanzy Beach Park to watch the ocean at play. It was quiet, sunny, and clear. There were a few other people in the park, but I was alone with myself and the ocean. I thought about my father’s nearly 97 years, during most of which he swam, surfed, and fished in this same ocean. I let that connection wash over me, and willed it to wash over him as well, wherever he was or would be soon.

The ocean, the healer.

My father died about 12 hours after I finally arrived at his bedside. We were there with him for much of that awful time, but not, I have to say, at the very end.

For the record, my father did not appear in my dreams last night.

Perhaps the ocean did its magic.


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21 thoughts on “He was dying and I missed the bus

  1. Hattie

    My condolences. My mother in law died three years ago at the age of 97, and I know “the end is always hard” no matter how good a life a person has led. But the worry is over.

    Reply
  2. Jay Robertson

    Ian,

    My condolences to you and your family.

    The posts about your Dad have always been interesting to read – I feel almost like I know your Dad too!

    Thanks for sharing…

    Jay

    Reply
  3. Linda in Kaaawa

    Our sincere condolences and aloha to you, Meda, your mom and family. Your dad will be greatly missed but memories will be and are abundant.

    Reply
  4. jb

    Aloha and heart felt good wishes to you for being such a good son and relishing your history…I agree that writing it for all to read would be a blessing you could share with us.

    Your respect and love has shown through at every turn.

    Reply
  5. 8toomuch111

    Ian, our thoughts and deepest aloha go out to you and family.
    You are the son we all would love and be proud of. You, miss the bus?
    Johnny Lind left behind not only memories of a vibrant past but his greatest achievements, you and Bonnie.

    You always show up, Ian Lind, Aloha to you.
    Ginger and Wayne

    Reply

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