Halloween Night 2003. Murray Lane, Brentwood, Tennessee. The last time I ever heard my father's voice. Every time I drive on that part of the road where I remembered talking to him - especially if it's dark like it was that night - I get this tiny ache for him.
My little one and I were on the way home from trick or treating with friends and we were discussing via phone call with him our upcoming visit to the mountains with my college roommates. On our return home to the mid-state we were going to stop and spend the day with him in Knoxville. He talked to KK too and he always had this glee in his voice when he talked about her or to her. He would lose it and get so tickled when I told him about her escapades and the latest and greatest accomplishment she had mastered.
I always liked to think that he had once felt that way about me. I had spent my lifetime trying to get his attention and get him to notice me or do something with me. When KK was born I stopped chasing him - I could feel his love just by the happiness he showed by her being in his life. The way he would light up when he held her gave me all the daddy I needed. I had finally done something that he was proud of. I didn't have to chase him anymore.
Had I known that it was the last time I would ever speak to him - would I have said anything different - told him how much I loved him and how sorry I was for the emotional distance we had between us for so long? I can honestly say now that all of those years I thought it was his fault alone - but now I can say that it was my fault also.
We were having breakfast when I got the phone call from my mother. After I hung up the phone I quickly sat down and turned my face away from my friends to absorb the blow - I was in shock - I could not cry. Any lingering anger or disappointment that I was carrying around with me towards him quickly dissipated and left my body. I can't explain it any other way - the animosity and unspoken words (words that I would never have been able to say to him anyway) I felt died that day with him and freed me from carrying it around with me any longer. At least on that Saturday night, he may have been happy knowing he was going to see KK the next day. I have to hope that.
That night while waiting on my sisters to arrive the next day - my girlfriends built a bonfire in the fire pit. Not only was it extremely cathartic but it enabled me to have a quiet place to grieve alone away from everyone. I was able to send up some silent goodbyes to my father with a final admonition for God to forever take care of him. I will never forget or be able to convey the gratitude for the gift of friendship that my friends gave me that night.
I won't say that the next three days were the saddest of my life but this occurred during the saddest period I have ever experienced in my life. With Father's Day being right around the corner, those poignant reminders are everywhere. Not only this national day to celebrate the bonds of fatherhood, but his birthday follows closely on it's heels the week after. Always on the perimeter, but this time of year is just a two week time period in June when he is constantly at the forefront of my mind.
And my weekly drive across Murray Lane, the ache is still fresh and feels the same. The memory of that last phone call with him is always there waiting for me. No more chasing.
