Gone, but Never Forgotten

It’s been 6 years, 4 months and 16 days since he passed away, and it still hurts just like the first day, if not more. By ‘he’, I’m referring to the most loving, caring man I’ve ever known, my father.

The only difference today is that we are more in control of our emotions, yet that doesn’t mean I wouldn’t cry and break down whenever he’s brought up in a conversation or whenever I get ahold of his belongings.

I wake up every morning thinking of him and only him. That moment when the doctor said “We’ve done everything we could, but we couldn’t save him,” never leaves my mind. It replays over and over again. I was a little girl at the time, but since then it’s as if I’ve aged a hundred years. It was a slap in the face from reality.

The sound of laughter irritates me just like the sound of a baby crying or a bee buzzing. I’m opposed to almost every sort of gathering: parties, weddings, ….. you name it. Everything he likes reminds me of him; if my mother cooked a meal he likes, I wouldn’t eat it. The same goes for everything else: fruits, vegetables, sweets, candy and beverages.

I spend most of my time starring at his pictures, reading all his notes he wrote to me, watching old home videos, listening to our favorite tunes, …. I would also relive those joyful moments in my mind under our favorite tree, the pomegranate tree or reminisce about the stories he would tell my little sister and I in his room.

People say that I’ve become a skeleton. They tell me I’m in denial, but guess what? I don’t care. I’ve got to admit though that deep down I believe he’ll return one day or I’m probably just kidding myself. I stayed living like this until yesterday.

It was a warm, breezy Friday morning. I was sitting on the porch swing next to our pomegranate tree, listening to the rustling of leaves and birds chirping where all of a sudden, my mother came hastily bearing news.

           “Sa-Sara, I’ve received great news!”

           “What is it, Mom?” I asked apathetically.

           “The dean of your school called to inform us that your graduation is on the 30^th!”

           “Wa-wait. He actually called? That doesn’t normally happen.”

           “Well, that’s it. It doesn’t, but he had a special request for you.”

It was as if my mother had trouble breathing and she could just burst out at any moment.

           “You’re the valedictorian! And he asks of you to give a speech. Isn’t that amazing?”

I raised my head to see a hovering bird that eventually alighted on a leaf of the tree.

           “Not really.”

           “Wh-What? What’s wrong? Haven’t you always dreamt of this? To be at the top? To excel others?”

           “It used to be like that, but —” I paused knowing my mother understood my rejection.

           “Oh, I know.” My mother stood up and extended her hand.

           “Get up, get up. We’ve got to go.”

           “Where to?”

           “Don’t ask questions; just obey your mother.”

We ended up at the door of ‘Sallace’s Mall’. I had an urge to get back in the car and drive home by myself.

           “We are here,” mom said.

           “Why did you bring me here?”

           “We came to get you a robe.”

           “Are you serious?! I thought I’ve made it clear to you that I don’t have any intention of going to the graduation!”

“Look, Sara. I feel like you’re here, but not here. Aren’t you aware of how your actions are affecting yourself and us? Ida’s slowly becoming just like you; she’s refusing to live her life because her sister isn’t. I’m positive that if your father knew of this, he wouldn’t accept it. You should rejoice, not grieve, at an occasion like this. Let’s buy the robe and wait until next week. If you still don’t want to go, it’s fine.”

My mother and Ida began searching through the clothes racks, picking out different robes and contemplating the optimal. I was gazing out the glass window at the main street, looking to find anything intriguing. As I turned to look at the end, I came across an ice-cream parlor. I recalled the times my father and I used to buy ice-cream from there.

           “Mom, I’m gonna buy ice-cream from Rendy’s. Ok?”

           “We’re done here. We’ll go together.”

           “You’ll just catch up.”

I had a query feeling inside of me. Why was I so insistent in going? I felt as if something was pulling me towards it. After I hastened to cross the street, I went ahead to Rendy’s, wondering whether Mr. Wilson would recognize me after all these years. As I was reaching my back pocket for some money, I turned around to witness … a miracle. It was him, my dad! There he was, smiling at me.

I rushed to firmly embrace him with teary eyes. His musky scent, light rough skin and tight grip triggered major nostalgia; I felt like a child again. I looked up into his hazel eyes, ran my fingers through his silky brown hair, placed my hands on his cheeks only to recognize his dimples hidden under his bushy red beard. As I was staring into his eyes, vivid memories were evoked; it was as if all our moments together were flashing ahead of me chronologically — from my first steps to me next to his death bed.

           “Daddy, it’s you! It’s really you! How can this be? Oh, forget it. I miss you so much. What matters is that you’re now right here in front of me. And your timing couldn’t be more perfect; mom and Ida are on their way. They’ll be ecstatic once they get here.”

           “I don’t have much time, Sara. I miss you too my dear. Let’s first head to the park behind the parlor, the one we used to go to. I need to speak with you about a few things.”

           “Sure.”

My father and I sat on our favorite bench.

           “Do you remember, dad?” I pointed at the carvings on the bench. There was a heart and two initials: “S”, “M”.

           “Yes, of course. You carved them for me as a birthday gift.”

           “I have so much to say. I don’t even know where to begin. Am I dreaming or did you really come back? Or was it you didn’t die in the first place?

           “I came to tell you one thing and I hope you heed my request.”

           “Anything you want, daddy.”

           “Sweetheart, the way you’re living breaks my heart. I know you miss me, and I miss you too, but that’s just the way life is. You must move on.”

           “You mean I should forget you? Never!”

           “No, of course not. I mean don’t let my absence get in the way of living your life. You have a bright future ahead of you. This is merely an obstacle. You’re the apple of my eye. Don’t forget that. My life is what ended, not yours. Go on, be a doctor. Get married, have children. I’ll always be with you, inside you.”

My father held my hand and looked into my eyes, awaiting a response, it seemed.

           “How’s your mother and Ida?”

           “They’re doing fine. Mom looks at your picture every day, smells your clothes and colon and prays for you day and night. I can hear her constantly uttering your name, Michael, in them. She’s good at concealing her emotions, unlike me. Ida has blurred memories of you, but I do my best to remind her of you.”

           “My sweethearts: Sara, Ida and Linda, I love you all so very much.”

As I leaned towards him to hug him once more, he disappeared.

           “Daddy!”

           “Sara, are you ok?”

           “Wh-what? Where am I?” I looked at my surroundings to identify my location. It turned out I was at the hospital. “What am I doing at a hospital?”

           “Calm down, dear. You were hit by a car on your way to the parlor. I yelled your name when Ida and I exited the mall, but you couldn’t hear me. Don’t worry. The doctor said it’s not severe.”

Did I fall asleep or was I hallucinating? Did I really see my dad? I had trouble putting all the pieces together. Apparently, I was too exhausted to do so. My right hip was in immense pain and I could barely turn to the other side. Not to mention the blood scars on my arms and forehead. My mother informed me that I’ll leave in a few days.

I couldn’t stop thinking about my father though. After hours of staring at the ceiling, I’ve come up with the conclusion that he appeared to send a message to me. All the “how’s” doesn’t matter. What matters is that I promised that I would heed his request.