He stood in the blazing sun, looked at the stone and read what had been inscribed on it.

"May the road rise up to meet you.
May the wind be always at your back.
May the sun shine warm upon your face;
the rains fall soft upon your fields and until we meet again,
may God hold you in the palm of His hand."

In the last seven years that would be the upmteenth time he read this galeic prayer.

It was also the umpteenth time in seven years he wiped his moist eyes.

Perhaps someday, someplace nice, they would meet again.

Until then he'd have to live with fond memories of a dad who walked into the sunset.