by Lucy Danziger

When friends and colleagues heard that my father had died in an unexpected drowning—on Fathers Day， 1）no less—they couldnt believe I was at work the next day， that I went swimming in the morning， that I was not at home weeping.

They said： “You are in shock. ...It hasnt hit you yet. ...Youre in denial.”

I wasnt. It had hit me， but more like a warm hug than a punch. When I got the news， we were driving back from the boat dock in our beloved weekend town of Bellport， Long Island （my 16-year-old daughter 2）at the wheel and my brother Peter in the back seat）， when I saw that my stepmother had called from Maine， where she and my dad have a summer home on a lake. I listened to the frantic voice mail message and said to Peter： “This sounds bad. Really bad.”

He also had a voice mail message from her. I dialed quicker. She said words that shocked me.

“Your father drowned.”

“What？” I wanted her to take the words back. Edit them. Add “almost，” as in， “Your father almost drowned.”

“He went into the lake for a swim， went down to touch the bottom and never came up.”

“You have to tell Peter，” I said， handing him the phone.

My daughter， Day 2 behind the wheel， pulled over as I gripped her arm， hard. I got out of the car and put my face to my hands and sobbed. Three 3）gut-wrenching sobs. And that was it. We went back to the house and sat in the sun， on the drying beach towels， and talked about our father， Tony.

He had been so weak； maybe he had a heart attack. Though he was 82 and a lifelong swimmer， he may have gotten 4）disoriented when surfacing and hit his head on the dock. Who knows？

The emergency medical personnel found him under the dock， pulled him out and tried 5）CPR， but after a half-hour he would not come to， and they had to stop. He had a 6）do-not-resuscitate order.

My stepmother was shaken up by not being able to save him， but how could she have pulled a man out of seven feet of water onto a dock two feet above the surface？

He had swung a 7）golf club that day， gotten our message wishing him a happy Fathers Day， and in a strange 8）turn of events， we got a return message from him hours later when I checked my voice mail， thanking me for the call and saying： “Im going for a swim. Hope to be around to talk later. But no promises！”

He meant， no promises that he would be reachable by phone. But thats just like our dad. He made no promises he couldnt keep.

Everything around and within me is partly because of his fatherly advice， his example and even the fact that he could get impatient and stubborn. His good parts： mentoring young people and being generous with his time and advice. And his bad parts： the occasional eye-rolling and teasing and inability to take criticism.

My dad was so bright that he had 9）skipped a grade， then always seemed to judge us when we delivered anything but high marks at school.

But he also was in awe of my brothers and my physical feats， the marathons and 10）triathlons we competed in. The next morning， when I got in the pool I thought about the fact that I didnt have to call him and update him on my triathlon training， because he would just “know” things were going well， since he was all around me and within me now. I didnt need to cry.

I went to work and told the story to my colleagues， and after a little weepiness in the telling， I said， “Look， I want to be here.” I canceled nothing and kept going. I felt loved and embraced by the e-mails and texts from friends， and by the comments on Facebook， where Id put a picture of me with my dad at my wedding party， hugging me and laughing.

Why， my niece wanted to know， werent we having a funeral like her other granddad had when he died？ He was formally 11）eulogized in a big Christian church.

My father， not a religious man， was 12）cremated， and we will spread his ashes over the lake and in a few choice spots he loved. We will hold a big cheerful celebration of his life in September， with his Yale 13）chums and publishing associates and everyone he touched who wants to remember him fondly.

My son was on his way to the 14）Royal Henley Regatta on the Thames with his college crew team and called to say happy Fathers Day， and I told him the news. He asked if he should come home， if there was to be a funeral， and I said： “Go to England. Row hard， row well. Your grandfather would want that.”

When I got that voice mail message from my dad， I kept it. He sounded so 15）chipper， so happy to have played golf and excited about taking his first swim of the season.

He was more upbeat than he had been in a while， since his body had been betraying him slowly but surely—first his hips， then his heart. And finally， his remarkable mind.

Later， I told my daughter that the weekend was surreal， because other than the disastrous news， it was full of love and I was surrounded， as luck would have it， by all my “siblings，” my brother and his girlfriend， my brother-in-law from London， and of course my loving husband.

“The universe is kind，” my daughter said.

First I thought she had said， “The universe is divine.”

Either way， I agreed： kind because death can come in nonviolent ways that spare the dying any long suffering， and divine because the person who left you can actually feel closer for being with you in spirit.

It doesnt have to be all sadness， this thing called death. It can be warm and loving. It can be about going to work and being around colleagues. It can be anything you want it to be.

When I think of my father， with his hands over his head in the lake， the image of him stretched out， his fingertips reaching for the surface， its like an inverted dive. He was diving upward， toward the sky.

Some people might say it was tragic. I think it was exactly as he would have chosen to say goodbye.

当同事和朋友们得知我父亲竟然就在父亲节那天意外溺亡时，他们简直不敢相信我第二天还在工作，而且早上还去游了泳，并没有守在家中悲伤落泪。

他们说：“你被吓着了，还没意识过来。……悲痛还没袭来。……你在否认事实。”

我并没有。这件事的确给我带来了打击，但更像是一个温暖的拥抱，而非一记重拳。得知这个消息时，我们正从我们钟爱的周末休闲小镇——长岛的贝尔波特的船坞驱车回家（我16岁的女儿开车，我的弟弟彼得坐在后座上）。当时，我看到继母从缅因州打来电话，她和我的父亲在那里有一间湖边度假屋。我听着语音留言信箱里那疯狂的声音，然后对彼得说：“这听起来很不乐观。真的很糟糕。”

彼得也收到了继母的语音留言。我比他更快地回拨了电话。继母所说的话令我震惊不已。

“你的父亲溺亡了。”

“什么？”我真想她收回这些话。处理一下，加上一句“差一点”，就像，“你的父亲差一点就溺亡了。”

“他到湖里去游泳，潜下去触摸湖底，就再也没有上来了。”

“你得告诉彼得，”我说着，把电话递给他。

我的女儿已经开两天车了。当我狠狠地握紧她的手臂时，她把车停到了路边。我下了车，把脸埋在双手里，啜泣起来。三个人撕心裂肺地啜泣着。就这样了。我们回到家里，晒着太阳，披着正在干透的沙滩毛巾，聊起我们的父亲托尼来。

他近来身体很虚弱；也许那时他心脏病发了。虽然他已经82岁，游泳也游了一辈子，但是也许他在浮上水面时分不清方向，头部撞到了码头。谁知道呢？

急救医疗人员在码头底下发现了他，把他拉起来并尝试对他实施心肺复苏，可是半个小时候后他仍未能苏醒过来，他们不得不停止抢救。他曾签署过放弃急救同意书。

我的继母因为没能挽救他的生命而崩溃了，可是，她怎么可能将一个七尺男儿拉出水面，送到离水面两尺高的码头上呢？

那天，他打了高尔夫球，收到我们祝他父亲节快乐的短信，让人意想不到的是，数小时后，我在查看语音留言时收到了他给我们的回话，感谢我们的来电，并说：“我现在去游泳。咱们晚点再聊。也说不定，看吧！”

他的意思是，不保证能接听到电话。但是这就是我们父亲的做事风格——他从不许下不能兑现的承诺。

我里里外外的一切在一定程度上得益于父亲的建议、他的言传身教，还有他甚至偶尔会变得不耐烦和顽固的事实。他的优点在于，对年轻人谆谆善诱，从不吝啬自己的时间和建议。而他的缺点在于，有时给你白眼，嘲弄你，接受不了批评。

我的父亲很聪明，曾经跳过级，如果我们在学校拿不到高分，他似乎总会看不过眼。

不过他也对弟弟和我的体育特长、我们参加的马拉松和铁人三项望而生畏。第二天，当我跳入泳池时，我在想我已经不必向他致电汇报我的铁人三项训练情况了，因为他会“知道”事情进展顺利，皆因他现在就在我身边，且已植入我心。我不必痛哭。

我返回工作岗位，把事情告诉同事们，在讲述时略感悲咽，我说：“瞧，我想呆在这里。”我没有取消任何工作，继续前行。朋友们的电子邮件、短信以及脸谱网上的留言，让我深感爱护和关怀。我在脸谱网上发布了一张我和父亲在我婚礼上拍的照片，他搂着我，满脸笑容。

我的侄女想知道，为什么我们没有像她的外公去世时那样为爷爷举行葬礼？她外公去世时，大家曾在一座宏伟的基督教堂里办过悼念仪式。

我父亲不信奉宗教，他死后进行了火化，我们会将他的骨灰撒在他遇溺的湖上，以及几个他喜爱的地方。我们会在九月份为他开一个盛大的欢乐追思会，邀请他在耶鲁大学的密友和出版合作伙伴，以及每一个曾经被他触动，并想愉快地纪念他的人。

我儿子和他大学的划艇队一起去参加泰晤士河上的亨利皇家赛舟会。途中，他打电话来说父亲节快乐，我把这个消息告诉了他。他问是否需要他赶回家，是否会举行葬礼，我说：“去英格兰吧。努力划，好好划。你外公会希望看到你在努力。”

我保留着父亲给我的那条语音留言。他的声音听起来那么爽朗，因为打了高尔夫球而显得非常高兴，也因为将要在这个季节第一次下水游泳而兴奋。

他比前一段时间精神多了，因为他的身体已经明显地渐渐不听使唤——一开始是他的髋部，然后是他的心脏。最后，是他那了不起的大脑。

后来，我跟女儿说，这个周末感觉很不真实，因为除去这个噩耗，这段时间充满了关爱，我很幸运地被我所有的“兄弟姐妹”围绕：我弟弟和他女朋友，我来自伦敦的姐夫，当然，还有我深爱的丈夫。

“这个宇宙很仁慈，”女儿说。

我原以为她说的是：“这个宇宙很神圣。”

无论是哪一种，我都认同：仁慈是因为死亡可以以非暴力的方式降临，让先人免受长时间的折磨；神圣是因为仙游的人实际上也能感觉与你更亲近，因为他在精神上与你同在。

这被称为死亡的东西，并不一定全是悲伤。它也可以是温暖，且满载着爱意。它可以关乎回到工作岗位，和同事们待在一起。它可以是你希望它成为的任何东西。

每当我想起父亲，想到他在湖中，双手伸过头部，想起他伸展着身子，手指尽力伸出水面的画面，感觉就像颠倒过来的跳水动作。他在向上跳水，潜向天空。

有些人可能会说这是一场悲剧。而我却认为，这正是我父亲愿意选择的道别方式。