02/2013

February 2013



I exhale watching my breath forming complex but beautiful icy patterns on the inside of the rolled up car window. I’m shivering from the cold and also from the anticipation of what’s about to happen.



Sitting in the car that cold February morning building the courage to enter the holy brick building that seems to loom a thousand feet above me, looking at everything and nothing all at the same time.



A silent strong hand reaches over to me from the driver’s seat of the explorer, that touch says everything without its owner ever saying a word.



Lighting up another cigarette, more out of the need to prolong the inevitable than the actual need for the nicotine, I crack the window and a blast of icy air creeps yet barrels in making the leather seat almost moan from the unexpected assault. My nylon clad legs almost burn from the cold, but I find myself enjoying it because this is the first time since the phone call at 02:50 AM delivering the message that “dads gone”, that I have actually felt anything at all.



Flicking the ashes out the window, I watch the fragile ashes float away on the wind and find myself thinking “Is that what dad ashes looks like?” I quickly banish that train of thought.



There’s still time I think as I watch the parking lot start to fill. My stomach starts to knot and my eyes begin to sting with still more unshed tears. I stub out the smoke and swallow as I roll up the window. Tony says to me “are you ready honey?”



I try to say yes but I can’t seem to form the words, my mouth has gone as dry as Death Valley and my tongue seems to be wrapped in cotton, so I lower my eyes and nod.



Opening the car door was the hardest thing I have ever done in my life because once it opens, I have to acknowledge that dad is really gone.



Summoning all my courage I open the door and the wind seems to still and I notice that it could be a beautiful day if not for this. Tony reaches his hand out to help me out of the car and clearing the snow so I can walk to the sidewalk and up the seemingly endless steps that lead into the church.



Inside the church it’s warm and I feel sick. After hanging up my coat we walk down the aisle to the 1st row of pews, my body on autopilot as my face remains impassive although internally I am screaming in anger pain and loss.



Sitting the pew next to my sister I begin to internally panic. My mind is screaming oh my god daddy please don’t be dead I still need you so much.



Tony must have seen the panic in my eyes as he takes my hand and whispers “you’re ok baby take a deep breath you’re ok I’m here”.



I’m sure the service was beautiful but I honestly do not remember much of it. I’m lost in my thoughts of dad teaching me how to ride my first bike, taking me fishing, and telling me “don’t ever let them see you cry, because they will take your power and use it against you.”



I have tried to live by that code if you will fairly successfully until the organ began to play Amazing Grace, then silently I let my father down as silent tears roll down my face. I look over to my beautiful perfect nephew and for a brief moment I’m jealous of him, jealous  because I wish I could be that young and innocent again and not really understanding what’s  going on and at the same time my heart swells with love for him.



Finally the socially accepted ritual of passing is done, we walk down the stairs to the reception area of the church. The receiving line was so long with so many people there wishing to pay their respects to my father and our family and when it’s over I realize just how tired I am.



We stay for a while and see family and friends we haven’t seen for a very long time and then make the very long trip home in silence and all I can think is….Now what? How do I do this meaning all the “firsts” this year will bring? My first birthday without dad, first father’s day without dad first year I can’t call dad and ask his advice. So like I said…now what?

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