Yesterday was Father’s Day and I seen your dad twice. Once, he was backing into the alley of which he parks his truck. I’m pretty sure he saw me. Our distance between each other is less than 8 big steps in all directions. The second time I saw him, he didn’t see me. I was sitting in the van with “the squad” and looked out the back window only to see him backing out of that same alley. It was interesting. It’s always interesting. Even thru his tinted windows, I could see his relaxed arm across the seats in his Dodge Ram, silver big bodied truck. In that instant, I took a double take and wondered how his father’s day had been so far. He is a father of three. Two girls, one boy. I’m not sure if the boy is his or not. I actually think he is the stepfather of the young boy, but likely embracing the role of his father. The oldest daughter, who would have been your big sister, is a teenager now. Probably easily around 15/16 years old. The last time I saw her, she was so beautiful. I’m sure she is even more of a doll today. The youngest daughter, who was born years after you, is probably around 6 years old. I saw her a couple of days ago bouncing around their front yard with a neighborhood friend. She has long hair that was accented with ponytails, twists and barrettes at the end. When she hopped around the grass and the porch, I thought of you.
Yesterday was father’s day and I saw your dad twice.
I wondered if there is even a remote chance, thru the new life that he has now become lovingly accustomed to, that he ever thinks of you. ….as much as I do. I think of you often. How you would look….what your hair would be like. I always assumed you to be a babygirl because it’s what I always wanted. I always wanted a little girl that I would have the chance to shape and mold and dress up and make mud pies with. So naturally, seeing as how your story tragically ended, you would have had to be a girl. It would be the perfect fit for the story of my life. The irony. The irony of it all. I still think of that day sometimes. These days, not as much as years prior to now, but I can still see my face rolling to the opposite side of the ultrasound monitor…IT was a plus or minus situation. It was a back down or back up situation. It was a life or death situation. And I made the choice. The detonator button was in my hand and I held it. ….for the next hour….trying to decide what to do with the next chapter of my life. He was stoic. Always a strong man with a true lack of emotion to be shown towards me. That day, he was in the lowest pits of his feelings. And I was the puppet master for once. For once, I had the ball in my court. Only this wasn’t a game and no referee would stop either of us from making a final decision that could mean the ending of everything. It was a last chance. It was a last call. And on the other line, you held the phone.
Yesterday was father’s day and I seen your dad twice.
I thought about his daughter bouncing in to give him a father’s day card with huge smile on her precious face. I thought about his smile as he saw her appearing near his bedside early in the morning with burnt toasts and orange juice. I thought about his teenager calling him on the phone and wishing him a happy father’s day….puberty coming thru her voice and his heart melting. I wondered how often he picked his young daughter up when she was a baby. Wondered if he was in the birthing room, which I know he was. If he could be in the room with us, he would have been.
This is the end of all things.
The last time I plan on writing you. Or writing about him and his new life.
When I saw him backing out of the alley that last time yesterday I knew I needed to let all of this go again. It seems like I’ve done that so many times…. ‘let go’ ….. It’s not about love….its not even about desire of said individual. It’s just the wondering mind of mine doing what it does best: wondering what if…….
………you were the blessing I would never get a chance to see live.
But yesterday, I saw your dad live. His arm casually lay across the back of his truck, signifying to me a relaxed man, on father’s day, probably proud, happily married and enjoying the fruits of his labor.
Laboring you was the hardest thing I ever did in my life.
It was only 2 wks before my 24th birthday.
You would be ten years old. Perhaps that would be your younger sister bouncing directly across the street from us. …..but….maybe you needed to not be in order for her to be created. Life is funny and fucked up like that you know…….
I love you.
I loved you too late.
I loved us, as in me and you, my baby and me….my daughter. My potential son. My sun.
I loved our possibilities too late. SO there is no bouncing from grass to porch and no early morning cooking with me by your side….no cards with barely legible signatures…..there is no you. It's just me that ten years after the fact, is still coping with the events that surrounded us. I could offer all of the apologies in the world, but none will bring you the light of my life……I just wanted you to know that yesterday I saw your father……
And he looked relaxed. And happy. I could see it radiating thru the five o’clock, tinted truck window shadow of him and his arm.
You will always be the glitter I thru up in the air and ran away from. Just know if you catch me standing still and looking up to the sky, I’m probably thinking about how I wish you would rain down on me. But alas,
The past can’t be changed.
It can only be learned from. Lesson learned I guess.
Sorry it was at the expense of what should’ve been the brightest light of my world.
~kennie
