I
remember something
my
dad
said
shortly before
he
passed
“Nice breeze…”
He was
sitting
outside
Slumped
I
should
say
He was
worn
out
exhausted
he
was
finished
His head
rested
uneasily
on
his
chest
His eyes
blinked,
on
rare
occasion
He said
little,
looked
forlorn
acted
forlorn
was forlorn
But
he spoke
He
said
something,
and
I
leaned
over to
listen
I
had
to lean
over
to
even
hear
it
He said:
“Nice
breeze”
The day was
actually
quite
lovely
I
think
of
that
moment
as
courageous
and
affirmative
To
his
last
dying
breath
he
found
the
good
Think of
all
those
who died
mining for gold
Think of all those
who died
fighting for country
All those
who
died
too young
All those
who
died
unfairly
Simple
it
may
be
So simple:
Find the good
and
stay
there
