Prayer

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It was one of those things. My mom probably said it first: that she wanted to see the Grand Canyon. And my father promised to take her. Then somehow it became one of those larger than life things that you aspire to do.
The other day, at the dining table Ajoydada asked me why Sedona? Who on earth even heard of Sedona? And I found myself telling him about that last night I ever had a lucid conversation with my dad, that night before his operation… And I mentioned that even that night he was waiting, ” let me get well,” he said, ” you and I, we will go…” The tears threatened to well even as I said it.
So I didn’t tell anyone the rest.
I didn’t say how, near the end of his life, when pain was the only constant companion my father had, he called me to has side and told me to pray. “There’s so much I still have to do,” he said, ” so much undone. I have to die to be born again, study, grow up and only then can I finish all I wanted to do. So pray for me. Pray that I die, so I can live through your eyes, so I can live again.”
I do not know if he was right or wrong.
I do not care.
But today, a few days away from a much awaited trip to the Grand Canyon, I have to say I feel I am not here alone.
And yes, back then,
I prayed.

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