Sucks to be me
One night when I was about 15, my dad and I were driving on the 710 freeway in his El Camino during a pretty significant thunderstorm. We were in the fast lane when the unmistakable sound of screeching brakes drowned out the sounds of the Little River Band cassette playing in our car.
I looked to the right and saw a car spinning out of control.
My dad hit the gas but I still had a front row seat to this accident playing out right before my eyes. The car began to spin in a counter-clockwise motion. The headlights blinding me on every rotation. What took maybe three seconds to occur seemed to take three hours as my mind slowed this accident down like something you might see in a Sam Peckinpah film.
Before I realized it, we were moving on past this scene. I looked over to my dad. He had one eye on the road and another eye looking in the rear view mirror.
My dad felt my stare, looked at me, and shared what could only be the most appropriate way to summarize the last 10 seconds.
"Sucks to be him."
Right now, I feel like that driver that I saw crash 20 years ago. I was in control of my life 6 days ago.
And then my dad died.
And then the spinning started.
And now, it sucks to be me.
I still had quite a bit to do today but others are definitely helping me out. The memory board that my wife is putting together with her older sister and a friend from work will be completed later. Big Daddy has made arrangements for lemon meringue pie for the reception after the funeral. And speaking of the reception, the Catering Manager from the mortuary had called me back to let me know that they had come up with a solution for our slight timing problem between the end of the services and the beginning of the reception.
Before making a quick pit stop at home, I stopped by the big and tall store for one last item to purchase for tomorrow.
Sunglasses.
I don't wear them. I never really have. They just don't work on my head. Glasses just look silly on me.
But I'd rather have some silly sunglasses on me than have friends and family see my eyes tomorrow.
I found a pair that "worked" on me and headed home. In less than 24 hours, my brother and I would bury our father.
I needed to figure out what to say at the funeral.
VW
I looked to the right and saw a car spinning out of control.
My dad hit the gas but I still had a front row seat to this accident playing out right before my eyes. The car began to spin in a counter-clockwise motion. The headlights blinding me on every rotation. What took maybe three seconds to occur seemed to take three hours as my mind slowed this accident down like something you might see in a Sam Peckinpah film.
Before I realized it, we were moving on past this scene. I looked over to my dad. He had one eye on the road and another eye looking in the rear view mirror.
My dad felt my stare, looked at me, and shared what could only be the most appropriate way to summarize the last 10 seconds.
"Sucks to be him."
Right now, I feel like that driver that I saw crash 20 years ago. I was in control of my life 6 days ago.
And then my dad died.
And then the spinning started.
And now, it sucks to be me.
I still had quite a bit to do today but others are definitely helping me out. The memory board that my wife is putting together with her older sister and a friend from work will be completed later. Big Daddy has made arrangements for lemon meringue pie for the reception after the funeral. And speaking of the reception, the Catering Manager from the mortuary had called me back to let me know that they had come up with a solution for our slight timing problem between the end of the services and the beginning of the reception.
Before making a quick pit stop at home, I stopped by the big and tall store for one last item to purchase for tomorrow.
Sunglasses.
I don't wear them. I never really have. They just don't work on my head. Glasses just look silly on me.
But I'd rather have some silly sunglasses on me than have friends and family see my eyes tomorrow.
I found a pair that "worked" on me and headed home. In less than 24 hours, my brother and I would bury our father.
I needed to figure out what to say at the funeral.
VW
posted by JVW at 9:39 PM
1 Comments:
Hey, was out blog hopping and found yours. You sucked me into the Wood Lady story and you'd better provide an ending!
Really, though. I lost my dad in 1996, my one brother in 1998 and my other brother last April. I share your pain.
Take care.
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