End

The telephone rang April 7th, and Betty Godbey answered A police officer told her that her husband, Delbert Godbey, had been murdered in a mobile home he was renting in Cebola, Arizona His credit cards, checkbook, identification, and wallet were missing The death certificate listed the cause of death as a blunt force, and said Godbey had been beaten by assailants He might have been dead since March 24th She thumbs through photos that her husband had sent during the solo vacation that he'd always dreamed of taking Ducks drift on the Colorado River near Parker, Arizona, protected wild burros roamed the sidewalks Oatman The backs of the photos are filled with notes recounting his travels alone An avid painter, Delbert Godbey's script is clear, telling stories he might have shared with thirteen children But the stories seem a little unreal now So this is it, unceremonious and raw I thought if I climbed high enough, I'd never feel the fall If i forget, if I don't make that call If I never decided anything, am I really free at all All stories have a final chapter, and darling, we aren't exempt Through each and every stupid disaster, though strife may never relent I'll beg you for a calming answer when I've made my last attempt To force oxygen inside these lungs May there be no fear or lament Can I quit when I'm too far down this hole I thought if I kept digging that I would have control Could you forgive Could you resist that pull Could you stay stronger than I ever could Cause you know it takes a toll All stories have a final chapter, and darling, we aren't exempt Through each and every stupid disaster, though strife may never relent I'll beg you for a calming answer when I've made my last attempt To force oxygen inside these lungs may there be no fear or lament