Here below an extract from a piece describing a relationship between a man and his son, titled Orphans. The story culminates with the mans death.
When we got to the hospital, my father’s body was still warm. But he looked utterly dead, with a slack expression he never wore in life. My mother said farewell to her prince and protector for the last time. When we got back to the apartment, she gave letters to me and my sister that he’d written years earlier, before a prostate operation, to be opened by us in case he didn’t survive. “I lived the life I chose. (Sometimes, these days I think that it might have chosen me.) I have been very happy,” he wrote to me. “I did the right thing. I dedicated my life to human progress — to bringing about changes that would improve the conditions of life and the quality of life of the common people. My belief as I depart this world is that I have been an instrument of historical change — that the forces of change worked through me. For this reason, I led a life of meaning and purpose.”
This piece touched me particularly at the moment as I contemplate the direction of Jade. That’s developments of the site and questions around my purpose in continuing to write.
Thanks to Julius for the link.