My Life Story
Clink clonk, clink clonk. The faster I drove, the louder it got. The little hand-painted frame holding a picture of me kissing him swung on the rear view mirror. He smiled smugly. I kept looking at it. It was happening.
Miraculous. Absolutely no traffic on the 91 on a Friday evening at 5:00pm. I sped through in my little Toyota Tercel hoping to find my brother’s temporary residence. I almost wanted a cop to stop me. Then maybe I could share why I was rushing and he could help me get there somehow at a faster pace.
I pulled up to Jake’s place. Funny. I remember so many details so vividly yet I cant for the life of me remember what his house looked like. He hopped out as soon as he saw me pull in. He was waiting for me and was ready. The truck was even started, there wasn’t a minute to waste.
“Did you pack funeral clothes?”. I don’t know why I said it. It was almost as if the months of denial left me on the freeway and reality hit as I drove in his driveway. And I wanted him to be a part of it. He didn’t answer. His eyes were puffy and he was just as focused as me to get there the fastest way possible.
Five hours. We watched the clock move from 6:00pm until 11:00pm. Never once did we say a word. We got a call about an hour away. “Come soon. You have to. He’s going”. Bruum bruum, his diesel truck shook our bodies as it hit record speed of over 100mph. With the speed, we released. It took the call to do it, but between that spot and home, we cried, shook, sang out to the words of what the Christian radio played in despair.
We got there, fled into the house that I grew up in, ran into the room to see death. A body nearly finished. Yet his chest still barely moved up and down. I flung my body on top of his and wept.
“Dad, we’re here. “ “I love you”. “I love you so very much”. “You can go now”. I took my hands and memorized every portion of his face. Ran my fingers through the prominent creases of his skin, the places that would crinkle when he laughed. I touched the back part of his hair, the part I would twirl my fingers in as a girl. It was him, the man that meant everything to me, yet he was leaving. Forever. I kept my head on his chest and laid there listening to every breath. I wanted the last moments. It was selfish. There was a room full of people, yet this was my last chance to be with him. I didn’t care.
I looked up, a single tear drop rolled down the side of his face. Even though his eyes were closed and his body still, he knew I was there and he waited. He waited for Jake and I. We had forty minutes. My cousin came in and started singing Amazing Grace. The room was filled with angels. I didn’t see them, but sure could feel them as they ushered him into heaven. All of a sudden death was the most beautiful thing to witness. He took his last breath. I will never forget that feeling…waiting to hear another gasp, just to experience silence and stillness.
And like that the hussle and shuffle of what had to be done next took place. It was over. The wait. The pain. The unknown. He had left. In the house he built, on the property he spent every Saturday working on with his wife and kids. Over. To something much greater. To meet the true love of his life, the core of his being. His strength.
Everyone had about thirty minutes to talk to him in privacy. I got my chair up close to him, yet I couldn’t touch him for some reason. Here I was minutes before with my face against his and my hands in his hair and now I can’t touch him. I told him, “I don’t know why I’m talking to you. I know you are gone. But I suppose this is needed for me to let go. So here goes: You were the most incredible father. A dream. Both light and laughter, so Christ-like and passionate. Manly yet gentle. I adored you. Every day. You could do no wrong. I can only dream to find someone even remotely similar to you.”
And I did.
Scarlett and I were pruning some of my aloe plants yesterday. I break their leaves for the gel. By breaking them, the remnants naturally fall into the soil to replant new aloe plants. As I pulled back the leaves to trim them, all of this new life was sprouting beneath.
Jason. Carter. Everett. Scarlett. August. Elias. New life. Every day, new life. My life. Six other lives. Life!
And so now, on every fourteenth day of February, the details laid out above race through my mind. Valentines Day. But it’s not a day of sadness or sorrow. There’s something very comforting about replaying the day, glancing at the clock. It’s probably the only day of the year I pay such attention to a clock. I like to replay those feelings. Even though it was a day of loss, the memory of it is soothing. I don’t want to forget it. Perhaps that’s why I wrote about it.
Today both boys had Valentine’s parties. I attended Everett’s then snatched Carter and took them early (no need to drive there twice!). We were going to go the lake for some sun, but something prompted me to go to a creek we visited often this summer.
The sun had already dropped below the mountain as the creek is in a deep basin. It was dark, but warm and peaceful…we were the only ones there. Really great, joy-filled memories of this summer flooded my heart. The kids scattered around with excitement as if they had never been there. Trees. Water. Laughter. The presence of God. It was the best possible place to be at the best possible moment. I was able to have my moment of grief all while experiencing such great joy. And life.
And that’s what Valentines Day means to me.. It’s not a day where I think about my love story, it’s a day to reflect on my life story. Not just life in the past, but life now, and life to come. And there's nothing more exciting than that!
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