The Death of Love's Blues' #7 (November 2014)
by Steve Gigante
~ Dad's Death Story ~
The day of the service was a Monday morning and took place at the Episcopalian church that my sister and her family now go to. A few days prior we had agreed to have my father cremated. The ashes were at the church in a small chapel area that was used for the service. Only about a handful of people were there - three friends (male), another friend (female), my Dad's lady companion who he'd been living with in his later years named Mary and her daughter, me, Jackie (my sister), and Bruce (Jackie's husband).
Upon leaving my Mom's house to go to the church I noticed that it was a dark, overcast day with much wind. It looked and felt like it was going to rain, but it never did. As we drove the mile or so to the church I also noticed that if I looked in the distance I could see where the clouds stopped and the sun was shining. It was as if the clouds were only surrounding the general area of the city and nearby countryside. I thought this was a bit strange but I also couldn't help but think that it was somehow fitting as it's always seemed to me that my father could've had a very good life if only he would've made the right choices/decisions at crucial junctures. Like he could've lived a much more bright and sunny life, but he more often than not chose to do things that kept him in the dark or under the clouds, so to speak, as opposed to above them and in the sun.
The service was simple, to the point, and, yes, somewhat strange as all present only had scant knowledge of what their respective relationships were involving my Dad. It showed in the various looks on everyone's face - wanting to make some kind of meaningful eye contact, but gradually resigning oneself to the fact that, "Well, I thiiiiiink I remember you, but... then again... I probably don't. Oh... what did the priest just say? Aaaaah, who cares...". I couldn't help but think, "Why the hell are we standing here, listening 'solemnly' to this priest who's never even met my father? We should be at a bar somewhere, having a few drinks, a few laughs, and getting to know each other". But, such is the decorum of so many soulless bloody institutions.
So, anyway, it eventually ends, we exit the church and walk to the car. I am carrying the metal box that contains my fathers' ashes. It's now even windier and darker, but still not raining. Jackie, Bruce, and I get in the car and start driving out of the city to another church which is where the ashes will be buried. As we're driving I keep looking behind at the very dark clouds. I also look ahead at the area where the sun is, all the while thinking, "Are we gonna make it? Are we gonna get to where the sun is?". We drive for about 15-20 minutes and when we start pulling into the church parking lot I realize we aren't going to get there. It's not as dark, but it's still overcast. "Damn", I think, "But, I guess it makes sense". The priest and the three male friends arrive a minute later. After a while Mary and her daughter still haven't shown up so we decide that Bruce and Jackie should wait in the parking lot for them while the rest of us go around back where the hole has been dug. So, there I am with the priest, these three guys who I don't really know, and my fathers' ashes - and nobody is saying anything. After a couple minutes of uncomfortable silence I ask if they would like to hear a story. They quickly nod so I begin:
"Several years ago during that Winter where we had a ton of snow I drove my Dad down to Philadelphia for some tests he had to get done on his heart. The doctors at the hospital were talking about doing major surgery and needed to run these tests to make sure he could handle such an operation. I waited a long time for him to come out and when he finally did I could tell that whatever the results were, they were definitely bad. We walked to the car in silence, got in, and started driving. We drove for about 40 minutes with neither of us saying a word. He looked very grim and I knew better than to ask. So, I waited. Finally he said, 'Steve, it's not good'.
'Well, yeah, I could tell. How bad is it?'
He just looked down and said in a whisper, 'It's not good at all, Steve, not good at all'.
I kept driving as we both got quiet again and thought about it all for a few minutes. Time seemed to stop as mile after mile continued going by. Suddenly my father exclaimed, 'Look! Look at that!'.
I nearly had a heart attack myself.
'What? What is it? What?!'
'Look at the sun gleaming off the ice on the snow! Isn't that amazing? Isn't that beautiful?'
I looked out the window and sure enough, it was amazingly beautiful.
'Yeah, Dad, it is'.
We drove on and looked at the snow, the ice, and the sun - silently taking it in and feeling better for it.
I've often thought about that moment over the years. How he could *still* look out the window at that point and appreciate something most people never even notice. It's always stuck with me. That in spite of everything - he could still SEE IT."
As I finish the story Jackie, Bruce, Mary and her daughter walk up. It's time to finish it. The priest says a few words, we respond, then she cues me to put the box in the ground. I start walking toward the hole. It's about 5 steps. I get there and stand in front of it. I start to kneel down to put the ashes in. As I start kneeling, I see sunlight hit the ground. I'm now kneeling. I stop, turn my head to the sky and notice a small area where the clouds have parted and the sun is shining through. I shake my head - not in disbelief, but in amazement - smile, and lower the box with my fathers' ashes into the ground. I stand up, turn around, walk back, turn around. A few seconds later the sun goes away. And it did not come out for the remainder of the day.
|
