Tennessee Tale

I flew in to Nashville this evening to visit my father, who is gravely ill. The weather is much more temperate here than in the Austin area. They have had a lot of rain recently and they have the Smoky Mountains. The last time I was here I was 19 and came to sing on an album with singer/songwriter Billy Calary. There was a Bosendorfer grand in the recording studio. It was the most gorgeous sounding piano I have ever heard.

That was a very long time ago. I've only been here a couple hours - still somewhat dazed by the wonder of flight. My youngest brother and I talked and laughed throughout the flight. Is that inappropriate or is there a heady effervescence about life in the face of death? I could not bring myself to be somber. When I am alone, some part wants to weep and another part won't let go.

My mother's death was a wrenching thing that took place slowly over many years but we had time to come to terms with it, to say what needed to be said and when she passed it was peaceful, like a long exhale. Now I see her at home in an earthy paradise with green meadows, bright lavender flowers and a deep blue sky. The sun is shining there and her body is young again.

The loss of my father is different - it's like God is suddenly falling from out of the sky - a thing that should not be. And yet he must fall from that high, remote place and at last become human. It is the way of all gods. In that sense there is joy in the fall.

Now I am swimming in deep water, way out beyond the shore. Past the place where there are footholds. If he falls, will he linger here on earth for a while, for years even, before relinquishing his hold on life and returning again to the sky?