A Life for a Life

My son was 12 days away from his first birthday when my father in law died. In the house after everyone left the hospital, I was the only one still crying. Everyone had a hot dog, or a hamburger, or potato salad and a beer. I couldn't imagine eating so I went outside and my fiance followed me with our son. He let me cry about his dad until I was ready to eat something and our son was done playing on the tire swing. Everyone inside patted me on the back and smiled at me, one person asked if I was going to make it. This wasn't my dad, but I fed him like he was. He brought me flour and I gave him scones. I only knew him for 4 years before I could never know him any better, but I knew enough to know that I wish I knew more. No matter how long someone is in the hospital, the ease of their passing does not increase.

There would be no memorial or spreading of the ashes, at least for some time. In a few weeks there would be snow on the ground, and all of his favorite spots would be unreachable without snow tires and heavy coats. Everything is more sad when it's cold out. His assets were split up amongst the children and grandchildren effective as soon as possible. Houses, cars, trucks were sold, pictures were shared, and then we went back to our days. Our hearts were broken, but our days remained in tact.

My son had been 1 for 2 days when my dad passed away. My mom was in town visiting from California and I hadn't checked my phone yet that morning. We wake up really early so it wasn't a surprise it took my mom a while to come upstairs. Her eyes were puffy and red, and she looked more upset than I had seen her in a while. I assumed it was my problem sibling continuing the chain of bad decisions she'd made over the last 4 years. She sat down at my kitchen table and told me to sit down too. I gave my son to my fiance and they left to go read Sheep in a Jeep. I sat down and my mom cried for a moment before stifling her tears and saying "your dad". I didn't move but my heart did. I could feel it drop into my stomach. I didn't know it then, but I'll never be able to unhear those words or forget that feeling. We got on a plane that night and I came back 2 days later. I clung to everything my son gave me, but shied away from everyone else. I tried to go back to work, but ended up crying in the carpool. I planned a memorial for when my dad's brother was already planning to come into town 2 weeks later. I gathered pictures, people, and words for 2 weeks, and on the day of I didn't shed a tear. We partied hard. Everyone drank and hugged and loved each other for one whole afternoon. People told me they saw my dad in my face and when my son mistook their legs for mine, they Aww'd and told me it was like my dad was reaching up for one last hug.

Everyone celebrated and went home drunk, but only a handful of us went home with grief. My lifelong friend met me at my hotel and we smoked weed by the hotel pool for a while. I couldn't do it without her. Everyone got one last hoorah out of my dad and that's exactly how he would have wanted it.

It took me months to talk about him and listen to the voicemail he left me on my son's first birthday telling me to call him back before he has to go to work (I didn't, but he still answered when I finally did call back).

That February I found out I was pregnant again. This time with a girl. I had a dream I was in the car with my dad and a friend of his I didn't recognize. We were driving on an unpaved, muddy, six-lane highway being chased, very slowly, by the cops because we had some sort of contraband in the car with us. My dad and his friend were going to go to jail for a long time and we all knew it. I held my dad's hand and told him "I love you no matter what. It's okay you're going away, it doesn't change anything, I'll love you regardless", and he replied "I know, keep taking care of things. Take care of everyone like you always do. Take care of those kids." I woke up crying.

Grief.