Summer Season Surrender
That June was the last time he left home. It was the start of the slowest of the slow summer seasons of my life. Hospice was happening. It was his last time he went down the stairs until he went without his spirit in a black zippered bag. That June was a decade ago. It had been 11 years since the delivery of the grim cancer diagnosis during which the doctor suggested that our Alaskan family vacation could be our last. But John defied all odds, doubling down on all things holistic from massage and meditation to wheatgrass juice and coffee enemas. Then as gently as the falling away of the spring blossoms, the day of a new season arrived. With the passing of this
