Sometimes anniversaries are just another day
The weather is the same
but I can’t conjure up what I felt
three years ago today
when my father died
I don’t know what I felt
slammed relieved unburdened
just very sad
My brother and sister were with him
in my house
I was out walking the dog
My brother called and said come home
it’s soon
I gathered up my puppy
thinking Dad would appreciate this
devotion to a dog
I raced home
My other sister called from the other side of the country
perhaps at the moment he died
He was already gray when I got there
The color fades rapidly I hear
My sister and brother were crying on their phones
The nurse’s aide hovered
I took his hand
kissed his forehead
cried “Oh Dad!”
I missed my chance to see someone die
but I helped
I helped give him a good death
He had asked me, not long before
“Is this it?”
I told him about his children, us
his grandchildren
what an accomplishment we all were
of his
he tried to believe me
I’m the one who heard his last words
the night before
his gut wrenched with a virus
He half sat up, his eyes still closed
“Shoot me now take me away.”
I was sorry for his pain
but somehow comforted by
his usual state of being
pissed off at the world
We come into the world ourselves I think
I remember my firstborn
fighting with her dad as he tried to swaddle her
just an hour old
My father left angry
himself
unreconciled
meaning is left for us to make
on an anniversary
or any other day
when we remember
just how he was
Thank you. Your honesty is more moving to me than any sentimental tribute. Yes, you did help, and thank goodness he was able to remain himself. x J
very touching, alice.