Remember Pai

Mae's buttons. She would always dress me in red.

Twenty three years ago, I received a desperate call from my mother.
Her voice was pleading without saying the words.
She needed me to come right away my father was not doing well. 

The dawning and setting sky.  The blues of the waves. The kiss of the wind.

Next call I made was to my childhood friend. 
Could she pick me up at the airport.
Yes, I needed to fly this evening.
 I would call with details.  Not even
a moments notice...yes, she would be at the airport.  Be safe.

Your legacy.  Generations. 

We arrived at my parents' home.  My father had been hospitalized
just three weeks before.  My mother was broken hearted she had
wanted to keep him at home to the end.  It was not to be.

You worked hard and  wore work boots nearly every day of your life.

She hadn't arrived from the hospital yet.  I let myself in and said my
good night and thank yous to my friend.  Sitting in the kitchen waiting
for my mother to arrive.  On seeing me, there was relief on her face.
She won't have come home if she had known. 
We could have sat vigil by my father's side. 
I promised we would head to the hospital first thing in the morning.

It wasn't necessary, we received the call around 2 in the morning.
We dressed quickly and headed to the hospital so say good bye.

Sequins from last summer's sandals.  Wings to fly and roots of home.

More

 Embroidery is my excavating tool. 
 Tonight to honor Pai we will have
 chocolate chip cookies and brownies.
 Chocolate is not the customary dessert
 in Portuguese homes but it was my father's
 favorite.