— …Cate walks into a quiet house. Lady hears her and comes padding out to greet her, tail wagging. She seems to sense Cate’s heaviness as she presses her muzzle against Cate’s shin. Cate bends down to pat her and Lady licks her hand. The simple gesture brings a flood of fresh tears. Cate throws herself on the couch. She doesn’t know how to do this. She retrieves her journal, still in her purse. She looks out the window at the sky. The stars twinkle. Cate hopes to spot her father’s spirit ascending to heaven, but all she sees is space. She turns to a fresh page and begins to write.
“Looking out the window into the dark night sky,
I glimpse the beginning of a new and spectacular dawn. The sky in the east transforms from inky black to
rusty indigo, to majestic magenta, to a soft cherry pink. It seems to speak to me of promises and dreams, of someplace I recognize but feels like so long ago.
I don’t see my father’s spirit out there, but I picture him in my mind, playing baseball. I see him standing
at the plate, legs planted firmly, his expression deadpan. I see him looking over at me, sitting in the bleachers— a conspiratorial wink. The pitcher releases the ball.
It sails through the air. Dad swings the bat. Crack.
It makes contact. Dad drops the bat in the dirt and starts running.
I pray that somewhere in that forever sky my father is running free, watching over me, proud of who I’ve become. I pray he will always be with me, bonded in spirit, in our hearts, for eternity.
I don’t know how I’m going to do this, how to carry on without him. God knows I’ve endured one hell of a lot of hardships in my lifetime, but this feels like too much. My father was my rock, the one true thing I always could rely on. He was a simple man. He didn’t change the world, but he changed mine. I felt witnessed, accepted, perfect. His hands have always held me as I laughed and cried. My father’s hands, they were my refuge. I always felt safe in his arms, with him only a phone call away. Where will my strength come from now? How will I manage, stuck in an unhealthy, unhappy marriage? How will I be the good mother my children need me to be, deserve me to be?
I don’t have the answers. All I have left are the memories, of the holding. I suppose it will have to be enough. “
Cate is crying so hard by this time, she can’t write anymore. Her tears fall onto the page, smudging her words. She closes her eyes. She sits in silence, for how long she doesn’t know. After a while she stirs as if aroused by divine inspiration. She has the strongest urge to write a poem for her father. She goes into the office and sits down at the computer to write. The words flow out of her with lightning speed, her fingers on the keyboard barely able to keep up….
