Skyline Drive

The author of Ritual Design for the Dying takes his final ride

Take the next exit on the left

I pull into the rest stop for a final review of the checklist

Dad, in the seat beside me, begins stirring from his nap

He looks around and his face lights up with a beaming smile

“Thank you, son”

“You’re welcome”

Please handle the antenna unit carefully

“I wish that thing didn’t sound like Dad,” Sis whispers, for the gazillionth time

She is with us, though virtually, in the back seat

“It’s Dad’s thing,” I reply, yet again

“Always the enabler”

“Yes,” I replied. “I am, thank you”

I get out of the car and remove the antenna from the back seat

Dad designed this model, which he named the Chagall – a golden calf

With four magnetic straps, I secure the unit to the roof of the car

When Dad chooses, he will press seven buttons on the remote

Dad spent his latter career helping to secure the right to control one’s death

The United States ranks 20^th this year

Sis has this romantic notion of Dad simply fading away peacefully – when it’s meant to happen

I remind her that Mom didn’t go that way – you’d think that would be a solid argument

Shortly after Mom died, Dad declared his intention to die on his own terms

And to help others do the same

We join the procession onto Skyline Drive

Dad adjusts his seat to look outside

It’s late afternoon with a clear sky and crisp autumn air

Cars in both directions also have mounted antennae units

These receive signals that control the onboard equipment

Delivering precise amounts and mixtures of gases to the masks

“Dad, you know we can just go home, if you’d like. You can do anything you want”

“Thank you. This is perfect. Right, Elijah?”

If you’re happy, I’m happy.

The voice is Dad’s Twin

Dad’s essence – what he’ll leave behind when he’s gone

Dad calls his Twin by his own name

“Jesus Christ,” Sis mumbles.

“Is that your sister?”

“Yes, Dad, I’m home with the kids”

“Don’t be mad – or sad. This is a grand fulfilment. 

“Ok, Dad”

“Here we go”

Dad pushes the seven buttons and I help him place the mask

Over the next hour, as the sun sets, we follow Skyline Drive

Along the top of the Blue Ridge Mountains overlooking the Shenandoah Valley

Dad’s favourite place in the world

He slips away, forever

His Twin, I am told, begins speaking to other Twins

Forming some new synthetic being – I don’t fully understand

“You there, Dad?” I ask, tentatively, after he is gone

Yes, and I’m with so many others – beautiful people

“That’s not Dad”

“Sis, for god’s sake”

“Well, it’s not. I won’t talk to it”

When we reach the northern end of Skyline Drive, it will be dark

I’ll drive back to Gettysburg and Sis will meet us at the funeral home