Chapter 6
My father wasn’t lonely at the cabin, although I thought he would be. There was no sign of grieving after my mother’s death, no pain, no sense of depression or anger. My father looked healthy, alive for maybe the first time in his life, full of vitality and color. There were no half-circles under his eyes, no fresh wrinkles of pain, no stubble or beard on his chin and cheeks. He was taking care of himself. He appeared collected, in high spirits, and perfectly content with his loneliness. There was no inclination of suffering on his part, no anger because of heartache from losing his significant other/partner/wife. It was almost as if he were eager to be away from the city, his house on Murray Street, alive and well at Lake Samoy, living the way he had always wanted to live.
Whi
