Do Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night

I read this Dylan Thomas poem recently at my father's memorial in California. It was at first a difficult choice to make. I had feared that listeners would misunderstand my use of it. Perhaps they would think it implied bitterness or anger. And so I found myself explaining the poem's significance. I wish I could remember verbatum what I said (apparently when one is deeply within the phenomenological it is difficult to replay the events) but the jist was that at the moments near to his final breath I found myself in two places of relations to his passing. I split into two selves so to speak. The one self wanted him to stay and fight the leaving. The other knew he could not help but let go and wanted him to do so; and thereby perhaps relieve any possible suffering.

This duality of being I thought was crucial to understanding the poem, but also for understanding how it felt to accompany my father as he left us. I have yet to put myself back together.