Dad

For some reason, I have been thinking about my dad a whole lot here lately. I go through phases like this. I will think about him, things we did or said, and they will just stay with me. I will have these bittersweet dreams with him in them. in them, it's like he never died but I have this sense of urgency to tell and show him everything I can before it's over. It's always sad when I wake up. I think I am starting to forget more and more and I don't want to. So this is a memory of us that I don't want to forget.

I was in my room writing a letter to Troy who was away at boot camp and I had my unit AC on and the music blaring. All of a sudden, I heard this awful bang and yelling. I knew Dad and I were the only ones at home, so panic immediately filled my mind. I was already rehearsing the instructions for the ambulance as I raced to my bedroom door. Flinging the door wide open, I began pounding down the stairs and saw my dad standing there panting and gasping for air, leaning one arm against the wall for support.
"Dad! What's wrong? Are you okay?" I asked, trying to contain the fear.
"Yes," he said between gasps, "just come on. Come outside, quick!"
Confused, I followed him. Although he said to go quickly, his frail body set the pace a little slow. As we made our way to the door, he managed to explain that he had been yelling for me for a while and that he wanted me to see the space shuttle. When we got outside, I found two chairs and dragged them out to the driveway and we both sat and waited. Then suddenly we saw it.

A bright orange streak lit up the night sky, going slowly from one side of the horizon to the other. It was one of the more magnificent things I have seen. Dad and I sat in awed silence as this man made shuttle created a heavenly show. As the orange faded away, we both commented on what we had just seen.

And then we sat in silence as the late summer evening surrounded us. The crickets played their nightly serenade and a random cool breeze rustled the branches in the trees. As the stars twinkled above us, I looked at my dad from the corner of my eye. I saw his chest heave as he took labored breaths. His curly black hair was graying and thinner and his cheeks sagged a little into his white beard. His whole body was smaller somehow. He seemed a shell of the man that had been my father. I felt a lump form in my throat as my eyes landed on his. His eyes were sparkling. His eyes were calm, happy, peaceful.

I could feel my tears coming, but they weren't tears of sadness only. The tears that filled my eyes were ones of appreciation. I was thankful that I was there with him seeing this. I wanted to say something to tell him how I felt but no words would come. Nothing I thought of sounded right. I wanted him to know that he had to get better, that this couldn't be some memory I clung to after he was gone. I wanted to crawl into his lap as his little girl and it not feel like I was doing it because it could be the last time. I wanted to tell him I love you without it feeling like the situation was bigger than the words. Instead, I sat, frozen by fear. Fear of making a beautiful night painful. Suddenly, he said, "Well, that was neat." and he got up slowly and starting to put away his folding chair.
I stood up to and said, "Thank you, Dad. That was really cool."
As we headed back inside, I caught his eye and said, "I'll always remember that." He smiled and replied, "me too."

I could have held his hand. I could have hugged him. I could have said something. But I didn't. And I am glad I didn't. Because sitting in our driveway that night, I don't think my dad was thinking about being sick.. He was simply a man with his daughter marveling at space travel. And I know that we were both thankful for our night under the heavens. I don't know why that moment has stayed with me so clearly. But for whatever reason I am so very thankful for the night I sat under the heavens and watched my dad gaze at the place he was to call home.