There wasn’t even time to say
Goodbye to Wendell Gee
So Whistle as the wind blows…
Whistle as the wind blows…
With me.

Closing R.E.M.’s “Fables of the Reconstruction” album, “Wendell Gee” is one of those perfect examples of what Michael Stipe and Co. do so very well that is, reify the mundane into these revelatory narratives that pull meaning from your subconscious mind. (Sounds simple, right?) Last night, I had a series of nightmares. Only, I wasn’t quite asleep. The crux of it is that when I think about everything that’s happened with my dad, and how I lost him, I feel horribly derelict for not being there for him in his final moments. “After everything he gave me in life,” I think, “how could I not have given him the comfort of knowing he wasn’t alone?” And, of course, I had no idea. It was a perfectly normal day a little rainy, a little cold but nothing terrifying. Typical November in New England, and, as such, I was typically lost in my little life.

Still, it’s irrational to the extreme, but it feels like a complete shirking of the single-most important thing I could have ever done for my dad.

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