The plane took off, through the white clouds to reach a clear blue sky like the most serious notions of reward from heaven. I sat contemplatively, flying across the ground in a state of disagreement, almost lulled—almost like going to the movies. I found myself, a twenty-seven-year-old man, bound in a predictable chaos, pouring Scotch into a clear plastic cup, on my way to visit his parents in a house he we have never seen In Arizona, for the first time, my father told me about death. Another doctor confirmed his illness – emphysema – but asserted that with careful precautions he could still live another thirty years. However, it’s also time to talk about a few things.