Parallels

Certain times in the year remind me of my dad.  Obviously, his birthday and Father's Day; obviously the anniversary of his passing.  Christmas, yes, to a degree--although not as much as when my mom passes, since practically half the ornaments on the tree are ones she made or gave to us.

But I found myself caught unexpectedly last week with the passing of Ambassador Richard Holbrooke on December 13th.  I never knew the Ambassador, it probably goes without saying.  But a number of the circumstances surrounding his death brought my dad's back to mind in a way I hadn't expected.

Amb. Holbrooke was 69.  He was at work, in a meeting with Secretary Clinton, when he took ill and was rushed to the hospital; surgeons quickly identified a torn aorta and set to work trying to repair it.  As I understand it, he survived the surgery, but complications set in and he passed rather suddenly.

The parallels affected me moreso than the passing of probably any other Washington figure this year.  The age, 69, was the same.  The fact that it was a failing heart that first brought him to the attention of doctors.  The notion that he survived the surgery but not the aftermath--or, as my own dad had put it en route to the hospital for the last time, "the surgery was a success, but the patient died anyway."  And the collective Wow of people coming to grips with the suddenness of the loss, the capriciousness with which we all live day by day.

One radio commentator observed how his passing shows the importance of living each day as if it were the last, because, You Never Know.  I confess to not being able to do that, especially at this time of year, so wrapped with To-Do-Lists as we are.  But the gentle reminder embodied in the passing of the late Ambassador has stuck with me.  God willing I can so order my life that way.

My To-Do List

1. Secure a position with the Resource Planning Office. (Check.)
2. Parlay that into a multi-million-dollar consultancy focusing on transforming public enterprise performance and efficiency.
3. Use the millions to purchase tungsten mines in Thailand, Bolivia, and Brazil.
4. Corner the non-Chinese tungsten market when trade restrictions with China are implemented.
5. Use the billions to buy a moderate-sized island in the Caribbean on which to retire.  Establish our very own "compound" on the island.  Have Mary declared the Empress.
6. Drink mai tais on the beach while watching the sunset.

New Photos

We've posted a Photo Album for our adventures this fall; see the link at right as well, and come see the first day of David's career at South County Secondary School, Halloween, and the Montpelier Hunt Races in November.  There's also a link, only here, that takes you to pictures of David's troop completing their Canoeing merit badge this fall.  Click over to these offerings, then leave a comment and let us know what you think!

The First Tuesday in November

Two years ago I flew back to Virginia on the first Tuesday of the month, to rejoin my family, return to work, and even (perhaps) make it in time to vote in the Presidential election.  Perhaps I suspected,  but didn't truly know, that that morning when I left Fletcher Allen hospital for the airport, it would be the last time I would get to see Dad alive, with those bright blue eyes staring weakly out.

The last hug that morning, with me stretching across his elevated frame, I remember still.  It probably lasted mere seconds, until a spasm like a cough from inside his chest induced me to let go.  At the time I remember jumping back, as if I had been holding him too hard and caused him to cough; I also remember thinking it could just have been an involuntary cough from the irritation of the ventilator tube.  Only later did I come to wonder if instead of a cough, that the spasm deep inside may have been a sob instead, at his own knowledge that it would be the last hug we shared.

I still remember that hug, the barrel-chested frame I had to stand on tiptoe to get my left arm over in that elevated ICU bed.  I remember trying to hold it all, and eventually, having to let go, and return: to voting, to homework, to spend plans, to what everyday activities in Northern Virginia bring us every day.

I'd just like to get another hug from him now.  Please.

Ho-Ho-Holiday Shopping

Our initial swing at a 2010 Gift Ideas list has been posted and we'll refresh it as other ideas come to us (or get taken down after birthdays) over the next few weeks.