Amy's Word: Redolent, The Conclusion

I felt myself rise to the level of awareness right before one wakes fully. My dreams started to replay back in a fast forward fashion in my mind. My subconscious wanting to give me a quick accounting of the night before the light of day erased them. I could see fragments of memories that had come to me as I slept. My mom's face both healthy and unwell, Christopher and Gracie both young and older. I grasped on to the images hoping to sort them out in meaning later, but felt them slipping away as my mind became more and more alert. My parent's room had an eastern exposure and was the warmest place in the house this time of morning. The warming rays of the new sun filtered through the shutters and played in patterns of warmth and shadow across my face.

I opened my eyes and took in the room around me. Everything seemed as it was the night before. Dad sleeping peacefully. I waited a few moments, laying in my same position in the chair next to him, watching his chest rise and fall. The rhythm and beeps of the machines around us were like an odd mechanical replacement of being awoken by the chirping of birds. Dad's journals and Mom's letter were stacked on the night table where I managed to put them before falling asleep. I sat up in the chair, fully awake now and sensed immediately that I wasn't alone in the room.

Craig.
He just seemed to suddenly materialize from nowhere. He bent over and kissed me before kneeling down in front of the chair, rubbing both my arms. Whether to comfort or to warm me I don't know, it just felt so good to have him here.

"Morning." He said looking very alert and fresh for someone who had to have taken a red eye flight and then had slept..where? on the floor? I looked around for his luggage or some other proof that I was truly awake and he was here.

"You're always so profound in the mornings." He chuckled, finding my confusion entertaining.

"How-where-uh, when did you get here?" I asked brushing the hair out of my eyes and trying to focus on the present.

"It's seven. I just got here a few hours ago, and I have been talking most of the time downstairs with Dad's nurse, getting caught up on things. How is he?"

I sat up and stretched my arms up and back as far as they would go, joints popping in relief.
"So far so good. Nothing happened during the night, and as far as I can tell he's resting peacefully." I said gesturing over to the bed as I yawned loudly.

"Do you think he'll sleep most of the day or will we get a cha--"

"You know, no matter how old you get, you never get used to people talking about you even when you're in the room." came a gruff and sleepy voice from the bed.

"Dad! Hey, how are you feeling? Do you need me to get Sammy, get you some more pain meds?" Craig and I were both standing over him, shoulders hunched, eyes eager in hopes that we could be of use. He raised an eyebrow at us and laughed ever so softly and carefully.
"At ease you two. I'm fine. Just waking up is all." He moved his gaze past me to Craig. "I suppose she called you when I nearly kicked the bucket yesterday. How are you son?"

"I'm good Dad. It's really good to see you." Craig said and smiled at him warmly.

"Wow. No jokes, no insults. I must really be at death's door."

Craig smiled. "Well I wanted to make sure you were fully awake before I started in. No good wasting perfectly good zingers on someone half asleep."

Dad seemed relieved at that and reached out a hand towards him and Craig immediately grabbed it up in his own. "It's good to see you too son." There seemed an intense unspoken conversation going on between them. If I had to sum up the essence of what was being said silently between them, it would have been: Thank you.

The moment passed and the three of us spent some time catching up. Craig had brought pictures of the kids and Dad held them as we spoke, astonished at how they had grown. He held them like treasures and listened intently at our recall of funny stories. The trip down memory lane eventually faded into a comfortable silence.

"Do you mind if I speak to Jillian alone for a minute Craig?"

"Of course Dad. Chris and Gracie will be here any minute, I should go down and wait for them." He pulled me into a sideways hug before he left and I drew strength from it. I caught his glance as he turned to leave. His eyes were brimming with concern and love as he pulled the door closed behind him.

****
I pulled myself close to him. My knees touching the bed, my hand closed over his. I had rehearsed what I would say to him when this moment came. Over and over I had thought of all the ways he had messed up or been insensitive and had put together a case and a closing argument as powerful as any seasoned litigator. Now, as I sat here, I looked at him through different eyes. He was the man who raised me. His hands, calloused and weathered had shown me how to give an honest days work. I had been taught that the day is not through until home and family are all taken care of and accounted for. I felt my heart suddenly ache to be healed. The realization that the past could be put behind us and that we could be put together whole was suddenly all I wanted. He hadn't made all the right decisions, but either had I. Sammy had said just a few hours early about how time was a gift and we needed to treat it as such. I looked up at him and saw in his eyes a deep and genuine love for me. I needed to end this thing. It was in my hands now to say the words that would make this right. I thought all these things and yet continued sitting there in silence.

I casually rubbed my thumb over the back of his hand and tried to make sense of why the words stayed frozen in my throat. Every time I lifted my head and willed my voice to speak, tears came, unbidden to my eyes, and a surge of pain would flood my chest. Why was I doing this? I thought to myself. He has more than explained his motives behind sending Mom away. Granted, he should have clued me in. I had become the primary female caregiver for several years,and I deserved the respect that came with decision making. Him going over my head with his choice, with no explanation put me back in the role of child. Technically I was the child, but I had given up that title years ago in the name of rising up to fill the gap. For years we argued over what was best for her, and I worried over her in that institution. When she finally passed away seven years ago I had been convinced that she had died alone and heartbroken. That she should have been surrounded by us, even if she didn't know it was us. I blamed him. Unfairly so, but at the time I was so profoundly sad that the only way to cope was to be angry. I lashed out at Dad who had been responsible for her care. Dad had his pride and I had mine. Our pride and sadness became this ever increasing chasm that eventually seemed too big a space to cross. We had eventually felt content on our own sides, tending to our own wounds.

But honest to goodness, none of that mattered now. We had both made mistakes and had our own reasons for why we had done what we had done. I was ready to move on, and yet my voice and emotions betrayed me. Dad could have hours and yet here I sat. Unable to speak, feeling this inexplicable rage swirling in my chest, making it hard to breathe.

"I'm so sorry Dad--" I finally blurted out by force, and let my head fall to the bed beside him. "I don't know why I'm so angry right now, truly." I said, choking on the sobs that now came out of me violently. "You spoke of your shifting perspective that led you to your choices. That you saw the bigger picture and I can appreciate that. Truly--"I stopped and grabbed a tissue from the nightstand, and wiped my eyes and blew my nose. The sobs that had racked my body were subsiding. I could sense that my eyes were now red and swollen, but I felt calmer as I hiccuped and felt my breathing come a little easier.

"I don't know why I am acting this way." I said quietly, looking down at my hands folded in my lap.

"I do." He answered just as quietly. I looked up into his face, my eyes pleading with him to put me out of my misery. I was greeted with a sadness that took my breath away.

"What, what is it?" I asked anxiously. He drew in a shaky but sure breath and reached for my hand. I gave it to him and leaned forward, not wanting him to strain with the effort of speaking. His eyes seemed like deep endless pools of blue. The expression in them was formed by a life full of happiness and pain. Mistakes and redemption. When he spoke then, I was taken aback by the strength of it. "I am your father Jillian. Your father. I sat in my pride and my hurt like a pig in mud. For any other relationship, that could be overlooked, excused away...forgiven. But you are my daughter Jill, and I failed you. A father is her daughters first hero. Her first protector. Those roots run deep. It doesn't matter how old you get, there is always a space in your heart that believes you are your father's shining star. That if the whole world one day fails you, your dad never will. I did. No matter how far apart we had become, I should have done whatever it took to get to you. To explain, make things right. I should never have let one day pass where you didn't know, despite our differences that I loved you fiercely. You deserve nothing less and time and time again you came up empty handed. You are strong Jillian. Maybe even stronger than your mother, which is hard to be. I know you handled it. Carried the pain in stride. Did what you had to do day in and day out. But the weight of not being sure of your father's love is a burden that over time, damages in a way that can't fully be repaired. I did this Jillian. I lost myself in my pain. I stopped being your hero. It's a mistake I wouldn't dare expect your forgiveness for. But from the depth of my soul I am sorry. I'm so very sorry that a day, an hour--a minute went by in your life that you had to be unsure of my love for you." He stopped short and drew up his shoulders as emotion swept through him like a flash flood.

He was propped up in his bed, and put one hand to his face and the other to mine. As he spoke those words, it was as if a dam had broken in my heart. Behind it was a river of pent up emotions. Pain, betrayal, fear, doubt. For years I had unknowingly stored them away, to deal with it another day. Even I had not realized until he said the words, that this was the center of my pain.

I lost my Mom to sickness. My heart had never been able to justify why in the middle of it all, I had lost him as well.

Regret laid in heavy pieces around us, and we sat among the emotional wreckage in silence. I wasn't sure just how long we stayed like that until I finally spoke, surprising us both with the words that came out. "I know you came to my wedding."

He looked up at me, startled, his eyes red.

"Craig told me a couple years after in his attempts to help us reconcile." I continued. Not sure of why I had chosen now to bring it up, but trusted my instincts.

"I had been petty and ridiculous to deny you in the first place. It was just happening so soon after Mom went to that place and I was so angry. I just wanted you to hurt like I was hurting. I realize now what a monster I was. You were already in such pain, and I only added to it." I breathed in deeply and continued. The words that wouldn't come earlier were spilling forward with the current that flowed freely now. The barrier down.

"Craig had pleaded with me to have you come. Told me I couldn't see it then, but that I would regret it in years to come. When he told me years later that he had arranged for you to be there without me knowing, I bawled like a baby. I know he thought I would be mad but I wasn't. I was....relieved. I had so much guilt that I had denied us something we could never get back. I was saved from my stupidity by those who loved us and saw beyond our stubbornness and pain. Throughout the years, and even in the midst of heated arguments, in the back of my mind I always thought: He came to my wedding." Fresh tears made their way silently down his cheeks as I spoke.

"There was always a part of me that knew no matter how far apart we had become, you still loved me. You were still my dad. Despite the anger and the differences, you refused to miss me walking down the aisle and in your heart, I knew you had given me away on that day as fathers do. The knowledge of that has sustained me. I know it must sound silly. But even as I say it now, I know that it's true. Deep down I have always known that our love for each other survived the battle. It was there, and would eventually lead us back."

I embraced him then and he hugged me with a strength that defied his illness. No more words were needed, as they often aren't between father and daughter.

****
Dad passed away on the following Tuesday. In so many ways it was unfair. He was 65. Young by many accounts. A newly healed relationship with me, and a life that could have been full of the sounds and laughter of his grandchildren. We had stood on the hill where we buried him next to Mom. Craig held one hand, Gracie the other. A great peace filled the space. He was back with the love of his life. She could see them together in her mind's eye, embracing and weeping with tears of joy. Talking excitedly about all of us. Both of them healthy and whole, she could feel them watching over their family with pride and love.
I stood now in my childhood room, making a final check of the closet and drawers. Double checking that I had gotten everything. Even as I was doing it, I knew I was stalling. I knew it was time to leave, but I was unwilling now to let go. I walked the room, touching things, soaking it all in with a new open heart. My fingers, trailing a path across my dresser, stopped when they came to Nana's jewelry box. I opened it and pulled it close to my heart with a new found closeness to her. I tucked it under my arm and envisioned passing it on one day to Olivia. Being able to tell her of the long lineage of strong women from which she came. A warmth spread throughout me then, and I felt it gently fill in the holes caused by loss.
I walked to the open window and looked out among the familiar fields and trees. Closing my eyes I purposefully breathed in deeply, filling my lungs and senses with the smell of lavender. Sealing memories, and the feelings of love and healing with it's familiar scent.