He was only five the night that his father died. The memory had become hazy with age, fragmented images that seemed more dream than real; snapshots from someone elses life and not his own. Green linoleum is what he remembered the most clearly when he closed his eyes and thought back to that night in August so many years ago. The green linoleum of the emergency rooms floor. Dull and lifeless. The color of a cadavers skin beneath the morgue rooms florescents. He was playing with his matchbox cars while his mother was pacing the room, talking to the nurses at the intake desk, sitting down and crying into her hands. He had grabbed them when his mother had whisked him off into the car to make the trip to the hospital and he refused to put them down when she grabbed his arm after getting the phone call. He played with them now, in the hospital, on the green linoleum floor while his father fought for his life in the next room over. A purple dragster and an orange mustang. Funny how colors played such a huge part of this memory. He was playing with them on the floor when the doctor and a nurse came out of the next room and approached his mother. He heard her make a noise like an animal in pain and he looked up to see her collapse into the arms of the nurse who was standing by the doctor. The doctor turned his head and looked over at him, then walked over and leaned down. Im very sorry about your daddy, the doctor said and patted his back. He didnt remember any more about that night after that; not the drive home, not being put to bed, not even the next morning. Those were blank pages in his memory, erased by time and perhaps gone forever. He remembered snippets of his fathers funeral though, everybody dressed in black, coming over to him and offering their condolences, their faces all sagging by the heavy frowns they wore. He couldnt remember their words, only that he felt what seemed like a hundred different hands on him that morning. He took his matchbox cars to the funeral, the same purple dragster and orange Mustang. His father had given him those two cars as a present for being a good boy and sitting still for his hair cut. He had his choice of either stopping off at the Dairy Queen and getting an ice cream cone or going to the Five and Dime and buying a toy. He opted for the toy and picked out his cars. Over the years, as he grew into a teenager, he held onto those two cars, always putting them somewhere where theyd never get lost. They were in his pants pocket the day he graduated high school and also the day he graduated college. He gave them to his mother to put into her purse the day he said his vows to Vanessa, promising to love and honor and cherish her until death did they part. Those two small pieces of painted metal were witness to many things throughout the years; the birth of his two children, a house fire, a job change and a move across the country. A retirement. His wife had even brought them into the hospital when he got sick. They were on his bedside tray to comfort him when the chemo made him sick and the nurses were there with their cups of water, their endless smiles and endless cups of water. Those same two cars -their paint dulled over the years to just a shadow of their once bright colors- were put into the casket with him during his service. Smuggled in by his wife at the last minute. Shed spent an hour looking for them at the house as shed forgotten what shed did with them when she claimed his belongings from the hospital. She knew how important they were to him and wanted to make damn sure he had them for his final voyage. After the service was over, when friends near and dear were comforting his mother in her hour of grief, the mans son quietly walked over to the casket where the body of his father lie and took one of the two cars nestled in the bedding when no one was looking. He slipped the car into his pocket and then walked back over to put his arms around his mother. He was going to miss his father. And in the hours when he was alone and his grief was at its strongest, hed hold onto that small metal car and squeeze it until the tears had stopped.
Posted on: Sun, 17 Nov 2013 06:12:06 +0000
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