I've always felt responsible for my father's death, not because I had anything to do with it - as some have suggested - but because of the greatest sense of relief after he was gone. It was a calm feeling of deep relaxation. An inhale and exhalation like I had been half-holding my breath for a decade. My neck, ear, and shoulder muscles released and my arms hung limply at my sides as I watched everything burn. The car, the house, the old oak tree, and him.
I recalled the brand new President unelected Ford's words from just three days earlier, "Our long national nightmare is over."
It was Sunday morning in South Carolina so it's church day, goddamit, and I was late.