Rest in peace Pop

June 30, 1920 - February 3, 2010

Yesterday, my father passed away in his sleep, in his 89th year. He had been in the hospital recovering from a broken collarbone and pneumonia and other health-related battles. Having decided that he did not want to spend the rest of his life in a condition that was less than satisfactory, Pop decided to let go of this life and move on. With the greatest of luck, Dick, Jane and I were at his bedside during his last week. He led an artful, adventuresome and love-filled life. We will miss him, and will just have to take up where he left off.

The day before I left Finland for home, I grabbed a book off his English books shelf for the flight home and opened it up to this poem. I think it was, in some sort of mystical way, written for him.

Ithaca

When you set out on your journey to Ithaca,

pray that the road is long,

full of adventure, full of knowledge.

The Lestrygonians and the Cyclops,

the angry Poseidon - do not fear them:

You will never find such as these on your path

if your thoughts remain lofty, if a fine

emotion touches your spirit and your body.

The Lestrygonians and the Cyclops,

the fierce Poseidon you will never encounter,

if you do not carry them within your soul,

if your heart does not set them up before you.

Pray that the road is long,

That the summer mornings are many, when,

with such pleasure, with such joy,

you will enter ports seen for the first time;

stop at Phoenician markets,

and purchase fine merchandise,

mother-of-pearl and coral, amber and ebony,

and sensual perfumes of all kinds,

as many sensual perfumes as you can;

visit many Egyptian cities,

to learn and learn from scholars.

Always keep Ithaca in your mind.

To arrive there is your ultimate goal.

But do not hurry the voyage at all.

It is better to let it last for many years;

and to anchor at the island when you are old,

rich with all you have gained on the way,

not expecting that Ithaca will offer you riches.

Ithaca has given you the beautiful voyage.

Without her you would never have set out on the road.

She has nothing more to give you.

And if you find her poor, Ithaca has not deceived you.

Wise as you have become, with so much experience,

you must already have understood what Ithacas mean.

 

Constantine Cavafy (1863-1933)

translated by Rae Dalven

The book that I found this in is by Paulo Coelho. Not his finest book, but a very interesting one with some truth in it, I think. If you are interested, it is The Zahir.