It was a frantic, but happy morning – we were getting ready to take mum and dad to the airport. Mum busy tidying the house, dad his jovial self. We were nearing the point where we were going to be late – something we all usually avoif with extreme precautions, that backlash in a comical way. Anyway, that day was going pretty smoothly, I remember that.
I can’t recall the date, but for sure it was a Canadian Autumn. Dad was showing me this beautifully printed Group of Seven calendar, one month to a page, trying to impress upon me a certain date. How did he get a calendar for a future year? He never explained. I was more interested in the print quality, and those Autumn colours. If only I paid more attention..
I was getting ready quick as I could but as the baby was crawling around my feet being cute, I could hardly move my legs for fear of collision – looked for my phone to film him, because my girlfriend adores babies and would’ve loved to see his antics, but couldn’t locate it – must have been in the living room with the suitcases or something.
Finally, all set to go. 20 to 11: we were 20 minutes ahead of schedule. So there was still time, yet also a strange feeling of urgency: something was about to happen. Uncharacteristically, I thought, they asked if I too would join them on their flight. But something didn’t seem right, and my answer surprised even me: there’s no need – when I wake up, I’ll already be back in England..
Gradually I became aware of the rain outside, the weight of the duvet and that 1:00 a.m. silence, and a feeling of loss. My parents had returned to the beyond, and I to my Earthly life. The good news is they seem happy – and I’m glad they stay in touch!