Bleak times

Dad,

I am pretty sure I just said goodbye to Eliot for the last time. I had to hold him still while Marc gave him intravenous fluids. He will barely eat and drink, and it is heartbreaking, and I think Marc's heart is already broken.

After I held him for the fluids, Idriss and I had drive back to Sea Cliff. But I was so upset that I went and sat on the swing on the front porch. I wasn't super confident that it wouldn't break, given how rusty the chains are, but you aren't around to fix it, are you...

Anyway, it was a beautiful, soft evening with a robust and strange Santa Ana-like breeze, and as I sat on the swing with tears rolling down my face, I sought a way to pull myself together, to find a way to be brave for Marc.

I've been watching Longmire lately, which you loved, and I thought of the Native American spiritual ceremonies on the show. So I tried to imagine your spirit in the intense wind flowing every which way. I imagined your strength coming to me, through the breeze, and it helped. I said goodbye to Marc, to Eliot, to Mom, and we left. I know if you were here, you would be a rock throughout - so I'm trying the best I can to be that for Marc, but I'm not you, so there's that.

I love you Dad.