April 27, 2005 - My Father Dies Today

A few hours ago, approximately 2:30 pm in San Francisco, my father, the artist and philosopher, Louis "Luís" Cervantes died at home with family in the arms of his loving wife, Susan Kelk Cervantes. Last week two Tibetan monks chanted over him, as did two curanderos, he was seen by a Chinese herbalist and acupunturist, and a group of danzantes. A Tibetan monk is saying a prayer over him now, he has placed something on his forehead. His spirit is strong and present. The remembrances are loving. I am grateful that I was able to tell him that I am grateful for him. I truly am. Grateful to have had him in my life, been blessed by his influence & sensibility, grateful for the honor of having him as my father. Grateful for the art he left the world.

It begins to rain in Boulder. It is raining hard and raining snow, streaks of slush pass through the budding crabapples. It has always rained when someone special passes. It is a special blessing, a small blessing, that he didn't suffer the pain or misery that so many have who have suffered this particular kind of cancer. His spirit and vitality—virility—was always such that it was impossible to think of him ailing, to imagine him as frail as he was in the end. In less than two months, he is gone.

And I am not there. I had returned for a thesis defense that was scheduled without me & without my knowledge while I was away last week. I discovered the fact in the SF airport while waiting for my flight home. I can't believe anyone has done this. I am on sick leave and have, not surprisingly, been quite ill. I had reported to my chair that my father was dying and that I would be flying back to tend to him. And now, I have returned for nothing. Now my student does not get the benefit of my signature or shaping of his thesis. I feel worse for him. He is a fine poet, and could have had a publishable manuscript. Another reason to be so sick to my stomach—all I can't stomach.

The rain is healing. Time to give love and thanks to water.