by Glena M. Ackley

The moon shone brightly against the backdrop of a jet black sky, looking like a silver nugget in a velvet purse. The Lunar eclipse forecasted for the evening was going to be spectacular. The conditions were perfect, clear skies, not a cloud in sight.

This was a moment my father was looking forward to as he knew it would be his last chance to witness one of the universes greatest "shows". I, alone, was asked to share this moment with him. Since we lived on the river and there was a park at the end of the street, we decided we had the ideal location to watch this spectacle.

The night was hot, sticky and humid. The rich smell of the freshly cut grass hung in the air like a trace of nature's perfume. There wasn't a breeze to be had, not even on the riverbank. The trees, tall and still, resembled menacing statutes as their heavily laden branched arched to the ground. The only sign of movement was the slight ripple of the water as the river lazily flowed 'round the bend.

I lugged my father's oxygen tanks out of the car along with his camera equipment and chaise lounge. We decided to start our "vigil" at the clearing right on the riverbank. The moon hovered over us, big an luminous, it's reflection dancing with the ripples in the river.

As we waited, my father began to talk to me about his impending death and what his last wishes were. I remember wanting to shout at him, "Stop! I don't want to talk about this! You're not going anywhere." My father, in his infinite wisdom, knew what I was thinking. He gently put my hand in his and in unison, we looked at the sky.

The moon was beginning to fade, it's refection in the river appeared to smile and wave as the full image began to disappear. In the distance one could hear the sirens of an ambulance, the splash of a king fish catching his prey, the neighborhood children playing hide 'n seek, and on the riverbank, while the world went on, sat father and daughter, embraced by love, suspended in time.

It was getting dark now, I could barely make out my father's face, but like the "Man in the Moon", I knew he was there. The reflection in the river was down to a few slivers of light and fading fast 'til you could no longer see the outline of the trees. Total blackness was soon upon us.

"You know, when I'm gone, I want you to think of this moment. The world may appear to be entombed in darkness at times, like it is now, but the light is never far away, it will always return. No matter what, I will never be far away from you. I am as close to you as a memory." I felt warm tears flowing freely down my face as my father spoke those words. He held my hand firmer, confirming his presence with his wisdom and strength.

I looked up and saw the rays of the moon begin to shine once again. There, in the wake of the light, a shadow formed of my father's distinct and noble profile, spraying it on the surface of the river. The trees became visible, a breeze picked up on the river causing the branches to sway, the leaves to rustle, making a sound like a whispering song: a lullaby.

I'll never forget that night. My father's parallelism of his life and impending death with that of the moon's eclipse changed me forever. My own spirituality was born with the reappearance of the moon. When he passed away several years ago, I was able to let go without having to say good-bye, because like the light in the moon, I knew he'd always be close by.............................. Thank you Dad

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