“He’s Gone” – A ghost story
My father suffered a massive heart attack at the Bell Rock vortex in Sedona, a fantastic upflow site according to my mother. He was only 87. “It must have been the energy from the vortex,” my mom said.
“That killed him?” I said.
“That comforted him,” Mom said. “The earth took him into her arms.”
His own father had lived past a hundred, and Dad still had four brothers, ages 89 to 96, who did Iron Man triathlons and ate sticks of butter for breakfast. My siblings and I flew down from all over the country to be with Mom in Sun City, where she and Dad had retired.
“He hated this place,” Tyler said.
“No, he didn’t,” Carla said.
“And now Mom’s going to keep his ashes in the garage?”
“Only until she finds the right place for him,” Kristi said.
We were drinking gin and tonics on the patio. It was close to midnight and finally below 100 degrees. Mom had gone to bed hours earlier.