September 25, 2008

• Dad’s grief

  The traffic was surprisingly light even though it was in the
  middle of the rush hour.  My radio was on
  the all news station hoping to catch the latest traffic report in case there
  was an accident up ahead.  But I got
  across the city without even hitting any stop and go traffic.  I thought that was the strangest rush hour I’ve driven in.  As I made my way down to my dad’s place, I
  kept thinking what I was going to say to him.

  I had called him just before I left work to see how he
  was.  I knew he had just found out from
  his brother that his sister had passed away. 
  It was not a surprise as she had been ill.  He told me he was still in shock and very distressed.  When I pulled into the driveway, he was
  sitting out on the porch.  I asked him if
  he wanted a tea or some hot water.  He
  said no and just stared straight ahead. 
  I dropped my laptop bag inside and got a bottle of water.  My sister was already home and on the phone
  with a relative.  I slipped back outside
  to be with him.

  I told him we were fortunate to have visited her couple of
  weeks ago.  He said yes, that is of some
  consolation as was finding out that she passed away peacefully.   He started talking about his sister and the
  old days.  I am not close to any of my
  dad’s relatives at all.  They weren’t a
  close family.  My grandmother wasn’t
  exactly a doting mother.  She was cold and
  distant.  But dad told me that he was
  closer to this sister than the others. 

  We spent about an hour out there in the cool air
  chatting.  I was starting to get cold but
  he had his fleece on so I hung in there gamely. 
  During one moment of silence, I noticed across the street a woman
  dragging a recycling bin back to the garage. 
  Before she got halfway, her son came out to meet her and gave her a long
  hug.  She just dropped the bin and her
  purse and held on to her son.  That’s
  what I wanted to do to with my dad.

  Every so often he would continue talking about what life was
  like back then.  I gently pried him with
  easy questions but let him guide the conversation.  Maybe it was my imagination or wishful
  thinking but his voice seemed a bit stronger as he continued to talk.

  He asked me if I got the thank you card from my aunt.  I said I did but I haven’t opened it
  yet.  He showed me the thank you card he
  got from his sister.  It was short and
  sweet.  I was surprised that her
  handwriting was still very good.  I
  stayed for dinner to make sure he ate. 
  As I pulled out of the driveway, he stood by the door and waved goodbye
  – his usual routine.  When I got home, I
  saw the card from my aunt.  In it, she
  thanked me for “bringing my brother here to be with me.”  I said a silent prayer for her.  Good bye Auntie N. 
  

  • 10:32 PM
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