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Dear Dad. You have been gone for 18 years now and I think of you every Father's Day. Oh, I think of you every day of the year, also. But on Father's Day there are special memories that creep into my heart. You gave the most special gift of all. You you gave me a vision of dying that I will strive to live up too when my time is at hand. You told me that you do not want to leave us, but that everything dies in it's time and it was soon your turn to go. Even when you were lying in your bed the night you were leaving me, you made certain that I was comfortable. You wanted me to go home and get a good night's sleep. You knew it was Spring break and that I had been coming into the hospital every day between classes, cleaning the house and caring for the family. You said I looked tired. We had an agreement that night. I put the phone by your hand and you nodded that you would call me if you wanted me to return to your bedside to sit with you. You looked at me and smiled and then fell asleep. The phone rang. I looked at the clock, it was three A.M. and I heard your voice tell me, "It's OK, Cheryl, I just wanted to call to let you know that I am feeling fine now." I remember that I smiled. Then I fell asleep again very quickly. At 6:00 AM the phone rang again. It was Mom telling me that you were gone. I told her I would be there soon. I stood in the kitchen a long time just staring at the phone in my hand after Mom hung up. The sound of the silence rang in my ears. Tears started. And as I wept my tears of loss and pain, I remembered reaching up on the night stand for the phone at 3AM . After a time, I shook my head and went about getting everyone assembled for the day. My sisters and I lived close enough to each other so that we could meet at Mom's house. The cousins would play together and console each other while we adults attempted the same feat. From time to time, one of us would wander off to a special place to be alone. On one of those times I walked to the stand of Bamboo that you planted by the little stream, diverted to provide fresh running water for Rex and Ruby, the twin Blue Tics. As I sat on the bench amid the Bamboo, it seemed that every time I got to feeling sad, the wind would stir to rustle the leaves. There was an echoing sound around my heart that felt comforting, for I knew you sat there often to think about things that were on your mind. I could find you there when I needed to talk over my problems with you. You would always listen patiently. A peace came into my heart as I sat there pretending you were with me one more time. Long days on the river fishing, selling bouquets of flowers for Mother's Day and Memorial Day, tending the rabbits and chickens are special times I remember with you. Long walks through the woods that usually ended in a stop at Aunt Ada's house, complete my favorite memories list. We did those things alone, just you and me. I don't know how you found so much time to spend with me with your long hours of working. I remember talking to my sisters and they had their own unique memories to share of alone times with you. None of our stories are the same. I guess you must have kept a running tab of times in your head, because not one of us sisters feels competitive about your Love. The one thing we all share is the feeling that there was once a man in our lives who could be counted on to be honest and direct and gentle at the same time. You raised your hand to each of us only once. Perhaps you knew it was meaningful for us to know there is a power greater than ourselves, Who is Our Father. No one will ever convince me that a power greater than anything I will ever be able to explain,does not exist in this world. There is one more item to discuss, Dad. Your death certificate listed the time of your death close to the time you called me. I remember reaching up to the night stand for the phone. I have not repeated this story to many people and I know why. There are some things we can never understand by all that is known of rational thought and logic. I heard your voice on the phone comforting me that night. You never were one to talk very long. You gave me your message and then you were gone. The only problem is that there was no phone on the night stand. The only phone in the house was the one on the wall in the kitchen. One might conclude that I did not get the phone call. But I heard your voice, Dad, as I checked the time on the clock. Do we always believe the logical or is there hope that transcends the usual way we believe? It does give something to think about today on Father's Day. Love forever, Fuzz |
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