I'll Be There

Friday, May 13, 2011. The day my Father died.

I closed my eyes and I could remember that horrible day.

I was lying comfortably on the couch at home, reading a worn out paperback book. My long brown hair falling over the edges of the cushions, I flipped through the pages. I already knew the story well and how it would play out, but it was one of my favorites and I often liked to read it anyways, like I was revisiting a beloved place.

My father was across the room in his favorite arm chair. He no longer tried to watch the TV and at some point had turned the volume down, so it could no longer be heard over the late night storm that surrounded us. He stared off into space as the thunder boomed and shook the windows. The rain pelted against the house in a rhythmic beat, but he seemed unfazed by it as I watched him curiously out of the corner of my eye. Another thunderous boom shook the house and the lights flickered out, but still he did not move.

I closed my book, unable to read anymore, and sat up properly on the couch. The room was pitch black, but I could make out the various shadows of the TV, father’s armchair, and the bookshelf in the corner. I placed the book on the coffee table as I walked over to my father’s chair.

I placed my hand on his cold, stiff shoulder, but he did not stir.

“Daddy, are you alright?” I asked him. He didn’t move or make any sound, so I lightly shook him.
He came out of his daze then and let out a startled cry. His eyes met mine, but they didn’t seem to focus. Lightning flashed, lighting up the room and I caught a glimpse of his confused expression. His hands trembled and his chest rose and fell in long gasping breaths. “Lucy?” he asked, unsure.

“Yes, Daddy. It’s me. Are you alright? What’s wrong?”

“Your mother…,” he started, but did not finish. The lights came back on, but his eyes never left mine. His eyes pierced into me, searching desperately for what he needed to know. Sweat poured down his forehead.

“She’s not home yet. She may still be at work.” I wasn’t sure what he was referring to with my mother, so I gave him the only bit of information I could.

“I just have this bad feeling…,” he whispered.

I watched him a little more, trying to figure out what he meant. My mother was probably still working. She didn’t usually get off work this early on a Friday night.

Suddenly he jumped up and scurried out of the room. I followed, wondering what he was doing. He grabbed his coat out of the closet in the entry way and put it on over his red faded t-shirt. He went to reach for his truck keys off the hook, but I got to them first. I held them firmly in my hand.

“Please tell me, what’s wrong? Where are you going?”

“I believe your mother is in trouble, or hurt, or something. I don’t know what, but I just have this feeling that something has happened. I don’t know, but I need to go.” He looked down at my closed fist which held his keys, which he desperately wanted at this moment.

I debated, not sure if I should let him go out in this storm or not. It was getting pretty bad.

“Wouldn’t she have called to let us know she was on her way?” Since it was storming, I assumed she would have, but I wasn’t sure. If she was in a hurry to get here before it got any worse, it might not have crossed her mind.

“Lucy, please. I just have this feeling,” he pled frantically, running his hand back through his messy black hair.

I sighed and placed his keys into his hand. He honestly believed this was something he needed to do. He cared for my mother deeply and he knew she was a strong woman, but his instinct was usually right, so I wasn’t going to stop him. I just hoped everything was and would be okay.

He kissed my forehead and shouted “I love you” as he ran out the door. I watched in the doorway as he got into his truck and drove off.

And that was the last time I ever saw my Father.

I found out later that he had been right; my mother had been in an accident on her way home from work that night. My father found her and called 911. He saved her life, but while he was waiting for the ambulance to come help her, an oncoming car hit him and he died.

I shuddered, coming back to the present. It wasn’t something I liked to think about, but today of all days, I wished he was here and the memories inevitably came rushing back.

I stood up, letting the long white skirt of my dress fall easily around me. I then picked up the bouquet of flowers on the small table beside me. I lifted them to my face and inhaled their sweet scent. It was an assortment of lilacs and white lilies.

I smiled sadly to myself and walked over to the full length mirror and looked at myself in the reflection. My long brown hair was piled up on my head in curls and a shiny tiara rested on top. My dress was strapless with a sweetheart neckline and clung tightly to my thin frame until it cascaded out at my hips. I then looked up at my face, which even though it was my wedding day, I wasn’t smiling. I missed my father too much and wished he was here to walk me down the aisle.

I heard a knock at my door and I turned around in time to see my mother step through the door. She was dressed in her light purple dress we picked out several months ago, with black heels that clicked with each step she took.

“You should smile, Dear,” she said disapprovingly as she walked over to me and placed a hand on each side of my face. “It is your wedding day after all.” She smiled, trying to cheer me up.

“I know,” I sighed. “I know it’s been a year, but before that, I always thought Daddy would walk me down the aisle the day I got married.” I admitted this with tears in my eyes and my mother immediately pulled me into her arms.

“Your father loved you so much, Lucy,” she said, quietly. She pulled away from me just enough so she could look at me. “And he would want for you to be happy on your wedding day. Do you remember what he told you, when you first got engaged to your fiancé?”

I wiped away some of the tears that escaped and took a deep breath. “What did he say?” I was trying to remember exactly what she was referring to.

“He told you that he would be there on your wedding day, Honey. And I know he is here. I can feel it,” she said with a soft smile. “He may not physically be here, but he’s looking down at you right now from Heaven, and he is so proud of you. He would want for you to be happy on your wedding day.”

I smiled and wiped a few more tears away. I remembered the night she was referring to. It was when my fiancé first told him that we were engaged. He looked so happy and kept saying how excited he was.

“I guess you’re right,” I admitted.

“He loved us both very much, you know,” she said, remorsefully. “He was a brave man and he lost his life to save mine and there are days I wish I could go back and change what happened.”

I wasn’t sure what to say, because I myself felt the same way, like I could have done something to change everything that day. I just hugged her, letting her know I loved her.

She smiled at me again and kissed my forehead.

“I will give you a few moments alone to get ready, but you walk down the aisle in 3 minutes. And don’t worry, Honey.” She walked over to the door and gave me one last smile before she slipped out and shut the door behind her.

I caught a glimpse of my back in the reflection from the mirror of my tattoo. I got it not long after my father died. It was the only tattoo I had and I got it in memory of him. He always told me to go with the flow and to enjoy life and to love nature.

My tattoo was of a dandelion, blowing in the wind, the seeds breaking off and transforming into a bird and flying away. To most, it was just a tattoo, but to me it was symbolic. It was symbolic of how fragile life is; how fragile my father’s life was. How one second he was there, and the next he was gone, on his way to Heaven.

Seeing my tattoo cheered me up some. It was a reminder of my father, but a good reminder. I walked over to the door and took a deep breath. I knew I could do this. Even though my father wasn’t here, I still had his love and I knew that he was watching over me from Heaven. He was going to be there with me.

And as I walked down the aisle I felt peaceful and weightless. I felt calm and I felt strong. I looked up into the eyes of my fiancé and I knew everything would be okay. I had the love and support of the two men I loved most and as I walked down the aisle that day, I knew my father was there with me, just as he had promised.