Monday, January 12, typically would have been a good day for my dad. That night the Oregon Ducks played The Ohio State Buckeyes for the NCAA Football National Championship. But my dad didn't see the game and we didn't get a chance to discuss it the next day.
At about 9:30 am -- after a brief illness -- my dad died. He was 81. He had been battling several health issues, but his death was still a bit of a shock.
To date, I haven't had a good cry. Sure, I've gotten a bit misty-eyed a time or two, but I haven't broken down. The main reason why is that it was a good death. He didn't suffer long and he died in his sleep. For my money, that's the best way to go.
I haven't gone as far as banging a drum like Zhuangzi (at the death of his wife), but I have taken some solace from that story.
Life and death.
It's the ebb and flow of the existence we know.