The subject of my father is a hot button one to say the least.  I'm not sure when my father started dying.  Funny how that works for people.  As long as something is done slowly enough, a change can happen with few complaints. I have been thinking about my interactions with him before he died.  This one happened about a month before.


Two weeks ago Sara heard on the news that someone had dumped a body on the road that was less then a block from the house she grew up in.  It didn't surprise her that it came up in the conversation with her father.
"Did you see the news about the lady?  It doesn't surprise me.  I heard she was black and that the suspects are black as well.  I bet they are from four blocks away in Inkster."
"Could be Dad.  I can see why they picked that spot to dump the body.  There is only woods and a field on one side of that part of the street."
She thought about that place for a moment.  She remembered going down the path to the creek hundreds of times on her two speed bike.  She couldn't recall ever feeling a sense of danger there. But, looking back on the quiet creek that was spattered with garbage and branches, she thought about all the dangers that Could have been there.
"It's depressing Sara."  He sighed.  "It makes me think about death."
"You say that a lot dad.  Hopefully the new medication will help."
"Hopefully.  I'm tired hon.  I'm going to let you go."
"Um..Ok.  Goodnight Dad."