When my dad shat his pants near the end of his life, he cried.
He cried that cry that one cries only one time in life. He cried for the lowered drawbridge which he just let down for death.
I watched him hard through stinging tears. Felt him in that place he called the soul.
Then, I let dad go.
I hated/loved him so.
So, go please daddy go.
Go where you need to go.
I’ll find you.
Thank you, friend.