oftenreadilyapparent.Butitisclearthattherearetimes
whenthecostofpushingexceedsitsvalue.Helpingmy
father through thestruggleto define thatmoment was
simultaneously among the most painful and most
privileged experiences of my life.
Partofthewaymyfatherhandledthelimitshefacedwas
by looking at them without illusion. Though his
circumstances sometimes got him down, he never
pretended theywere better than theywere. He always
understoodthatlifeisshortandone’splaceintheworld
issmall.Buthealsosawhimselfasalinkinachainof
history.Floatingonthatswollenriver,Icouldnothelp
sensing the hands of the many generations connected
acrosstime.Inbringingusthere,myfatherhadhelpedus
seethathewaspartofastorygoingbackthousandsof
years—and so were we.
Wewereluckytogettohearhimtellushiswishesand
sayhisgood-byes.Inhavingachancetodoso,heletus
know he was at peace. That let us be at peace, too.
Afterspreadingmyfather’sashes,wefloatedsilentlyfor
a while,lettingthecurrenttakeus.As thesunburned
away the mist,itbegan warmingour bones. Thenwe
gaveasignaltotheboatman,andhepickeduphisoars.
We headed back toward the shore.