The big orange orb slung itself slowly over the horizon on the bay this morning, a sight frequently seen and revered by my father as he rose early to get a jump on things and experience the beauty of the morning on the South Channel. Sparkles of sunshine glistened off the waves and danced and jumped like a chorus line of light, mimicking the reflections of light from the tears that fell to the cottage deck, which I helped my father build here more than 30 years ago. Our place at Seven Mile Narrows is as much an embodiment of our father, as it is a place for vacation time and retreat from the stresses of daily life. Signs of Pop’s presence here surround us and are in some ways a comfort, but also a constant reminder of what has happened and the fact that we will never share intimate moments together here with our father again.

The temperature currently is a welcomed 25°C (77°F), with bright skies and a light veil of haze. Today we will be packing things up and battening down the cottage hatches, and we expect to make the “big push” to get ready to leave for Rochester by late afternoon. Tomorrow, we will be meeting with Bill Bishop, the funeral director in Hornell, to finalize details for Pop’s funeral and interment. We are also coordinating paperwork and specific family requests for a full autopsy with the Director of the Morgue at Highland Hospital, which is expected to be performed sometime later today or tomorrow. We are hopeful that the pathologists will uncover enough information to facilitate a definitive postmortem diagnosis, which would go a long way towards furthering our understanding and acceptance of the quick, unexpected illness that unmercifully took our father’s life. I am reminded of a phrase I’ve heard countless times from my parents as I grew up and over the years, and that is that, “Life goes on.” And it does. It must. My father would insist on it being that way.