thanks to all. it was rough -- but he died where he loved being. he was at home and at peace. my brother and i sent him off the way he wanted -- 10,500 feet above sea level overlooking arizona and new mexico.
q. -- "...if I in my north room dance naked, grotesquely before my mirror waving my shirt round my head and singing softly to myself..."
I scattered my old man's ashes at the base of a Sugar Pine in the Blue Mountains of Eastern Oregon overlooking the breaks of the Umatilla River. He was a logger, a timber faller, for most of his life and absolutely loved the mountains. They were the only place he was ever truly at home.
