When Corrine told us about this month’s Writing Me prompt, I immediately knew what I would submit.
I wrote a post two years ago about my dad’s passing. After two years, and with the coming of August we will finally be closing that chapter as we scatter his ashes in Lake Superior.
Here is what I REMEMBER …
I remember getting the phone call at work. I was in the middle of a tour and had to excuse myself.
I remember driving myself to the hospital, because I just didn’t want to inconvenience any of my co-workers.
I remember getting to the stupid parking ramp and having it say FULL while I was trapped behind a line of cars. Waiting to find a parking place felt like it took years.
I remember waddling, eight months pregnant, through the hospital trying to get to the ICU in time.
I don’t want to remember the scene that awaited me, because it wasn’t my dad. He never wanted to be hooked up to all those machines. I want to forget how the doctors talked to me. I could see the pity in their eyes, and their overly sympathetic words as they told me what would happen when we disconnected the machines. I would never wish this on anyone. No one should have to make that decision.
I remember thinking “I hope he knows I was here. I hope he knows he’s not alone.”
I remember coming home from the hospital, and feeling like I was in a dream and that I would wake up and he would still be there.
I remember writing his obituary and spending three hours on the phone talking to the pastor about my dad, so he would have stories to share at the funeral.
I remember going to the mall trying to find a maternity dress and an outfit for E to wear to the funeral, while B2 and E painted the nursery.
I remember driving the three hours in 40 mph wind to north central Iowa for the visitation and the funeral, and seeing friends and family that I hadn’t seen in years. Weddings and funerals, the two occasions when everyone makes the effort to see each other.
I remember thinking “this is how you know who your true friends are.” The ones that sent cards and kind words, the ones who drove six hours round trip just be there or the ones who came to make dinner for us.
I remember the music at the funeral. “Butterfly Kisses” and “Father’s Eyes” and the reading from my dad’s favorite book “The Velveteen Rabbit.”
I remember the food after the funeral and the big piece of chocolate cake E ate. My dad would have loved that.
I remember the looks on people’s faces when I showed up at work a couple of days later. I was being induced that week and needed tie up loose ends before going on maternity leave. Life keeps on going.
I remember when G was born and deciding that his middle name would be my dad’s.
I remember my dad each time I see the bright red truck parked in front of our house. For some reason I can’t bring myself to sell it just yet. Even thought it’s the only thing left to settle the estate.
I remember him as we search for houses. He was so handy and could fix everything.. The irony is that if he were here we wouldn’t be able to afford buying a house. It’s the proceeds from his death that are making that dream a reality for us, and I know he would be happy about that.
I remembered him when I found “the house”. It has a pond with a waterfall just like his. It seemed like a sign. I guess only time will tell.
I will remember him, the way he was always there for me, how he braided my hair when I was little, how he struggled through life and eventually lived his dream of owning a sailboat.
I will remember, as we sail on the crystal blue water and finally put him to rest.
Sail on dad.