My Father

 It has been so many years I only have a vague memory of my father's death. I remember I was at work, Tinker Hollow Ale House and Restaurant, standing in the back next to the bar, near the kitchen entrance.

Perhaps my sister Susan had called telling me I should come home, that Dad's death was near. It seems likely, as I would have been standing in the back by the bar after using their telephone. What I remember was a feeling came over me that caused me to think I had to head home at once.

I thought it over. The last conversation with my father months earlier, he told me I was irresponsible. That may be a lie.* He said I should go home. It was getting dark. I might get a flat tire. I told him I was not afraid to drive in the dark (about a hundred mile trip.) I told him I knew how to change a flat tire. He countered with some forgotten thing ~ men, getting kidnapped, raped or some such nonsense. Whatever. 

I made the conscious choice not to leave work. I would go home to visit the following day. I would be responsible, and visit on scheduled day off from work. There was a risk that he would die before I got to see him to make our goodbyes. I decided that I could live with that. 

He died either later that day or in the evening.