A little bit more

There are moments that imbed themselves in our memory bank and sit forever. Over the years I have accumulated a few. Snippets of childhood that include roasting marshmallows, Christmas mornings, and having to memorize all the countries in the Middle East. More recent moments such as when my husband proposed in my new apartment living room surrounded by moving boxes or the three magical spots when my children were born and I heard their first cries.

However, some moments are there that are not met with happiness, but are nonetheless unforgettable. I can remember the last time I saw my father. As clear as if someone had recorded it as a movie and played it again in my head. To even remember that moment leaves my arms feeling heavy and my internal organs feel as if they might fall.

It was a crystal clear morning. The kind where the air feels good in your lungs. My boys and I had spent two weeks with my parents, visiting and hanging out. My husband had flown in from Pennsylvania to drive back with us and we had a three day drive in front of us with a number of obligations waiting for us in Perkasie. We were packing up the van and saying all our goodbyes to my brother, his girlfriend, and my newborn niece Adalia, who smelled like lavender. We went inside to go and say good bye to my father.

My father had prostate cancer that had metastasized into all of the bones of his body. He had lost an unimaginable amount of weight in the last couple of months due to repeated vomiting and loss of appetite. He was a meager 120 pounds. His thighs were smaller than my biceps. He spent most of his days in his chair in the TV room watching the television. On the morning we left, he was sitting in that brown leather chair. I told my oldest son, Stephen, to go inside and say goodbye to his grandpa. I was able to see my father’s face from the door as Stephen hugged him. His eyes squeezed shut to hide the tears welling in his eyes and he hugged Stephen by patting him on the back. It was the kind of hug that was mild and light. One might think it was brisk and unfeeling from the first impression.

As Stephen pulled away, I could see that was not the case. My father had tears rolling down his face and he waved to Stephen as he walked away. I believe that was his way of trying to control the emotions running through him. I often think about what went through my father’s mind at that time. Did he want to jump up yelling, “Don’t leave!”? Did he want another hug? Did he just want another day with us? I am sure it was mixture of all of these. Life’s priorities take over in these circumstances and I am sure he didn’t want us to feel bad that we were leaving, so he said nothing.

My mother sat next to my father and I could hear her say him,” Don’t worry, you will see them again”. I will never forget that. It makes me cringe. Perhaps, because it made me realize how many times we say things to people to pacify an emotion or a situation and we have no idea if what we are saying is the truth. Unfortunately, it would not be. I never saw my father again. Would I have done anything differently? I told him I loved him. I hugged him. I kissed his cheek. I meant everything I said. What would I have changed? I would have liked a little bit more.