i found grace

today i look back

I am reminded of our last 'family' outing. We gathered blankets and the cooler, and headed to Folsom to watch the fireworks after the rodeo. I'm sure that I was embarrassed and humiliated by my parents, something I would take back a million times if I could.

I remember laying on the grass, watching the sky. You could trace along the edge of the rockets, and predict when they might explode. Something so small, became something so big. Everyone watching would ooh and aah, and we were all captivated by the show of dramatic colors and beautifully designed patterns.

That night my sleep was interrupted by a life-like dream. I didn't know what had happened, but I woke up with the physical heart-wrenching pain of knowing my dad had died. I've managed to let the actual dream details get blurred over the years, but I remember that feeling as if it were yesterday. I cried for a long time in my bed, and I remember praying for God to take my nightmares away...

The next day I couldn't shake the dream feeling. It was like I had shot a gun, and no matter how much I tried, I couldn't get wash the residue away. Later that night I talked with my mom about my dream. I cried as I tried to tell her how much my heart had hurt, and how worried I was that something would happen to my dad. She encouraged me to talk to him, so I did.

Dad promised me that he was fine. He said "I promise, I am not going to die tomorrow." I didn't buy it. He proceeded to fish out his insurance papers, attempting to appease me by proving regardless, my family would be okay. He talked about loosing his own father at a young age, and then after a long and thoughtful pause, he told me "Beth, someday I won't be here. When that happens, DON'T TURN YOUR BACK ON GOD"..... (emphasis my own). That night I slept peacefully. It was the last time that would happen for many years.

Thursday, July 6, 1995- started like most other days. I got up, and my dad had breakfast on the table. We exchanged some words, and he left, telling me to be ready for practice early, as we were going to go over some drills before the other girls got there. I went to summer school with my friend Jenny, and then rushed home to eat ice cream and watch soap operas. Why we do what we do in Junior High, I'll never know. Around 4:30 that afternoon I began to put on my soccer gear. Dad got home, we loaded up, and went to practice. Only a few hours later my dad collapsed on the field. I told him to get up or I would kick him. He didn't move. I held his hand and watched as his eyes sent signs of panic. He made the most horrid noise I have ever heard. I didn't know what to do. When his eyes closed, I got up and ran. I fell nearby, where the dirt and tears made mud on my hands and face.

I, being me, composed myself somewhat and grabbed my dads cell phone out of the car. Someone else was calling 911, so I called the family I was supposed to baby-sit for that night and said I thought my dad had a heart attack (where did I get that from??) and I wouldn't make it. I gave them a number of a friend. Then I called my mom. And my aunt. And nobody could be reached. When I think back now, this was the defining moment when I first felt alone. My attention immediately turned to my brother. Mom had dropped him off earlier on her way to a meeting. He had been playing on the swings, but was now hiding behind the bleachers. He was watching, and I knew he was afraid. And here began my compulsive need to protect him...

The rest of that evening is a blur. I told people that my grandfather had died at 40 of a heart attack, and that I was sure my own dad was having a heart attack at 40 too. My team trainer and the EMS worker asked me to go with my dad in the ambulance, but I said no. I stayed with Danny. At some point my aunt came in my mom's car to pick us up, and we went straight to the hospital. I remember being taken to a small white room where Danny and I waited with Aunt Theresa and Uncle Bob. We prayed. And then Mom came in, with a few friends behind her and the only words she said were "He's gone". I managed to escape with no one noticing, as Danny began to wail, and everyone else was holding each other.

I walked straight to my dads room. Call it a sixth sense, I knew right where to find him. I stood there for a long time. Silent. Unbelieving. How could the man who lay there be my dad. He looked just like him, but I knew it wasn't HIM. I got myself in trouble with a nurse for cutting off some of his hair... When I was escorted out, I walked into a waiting room full of my friends. All I wanted was to be alone. I left, and hid in the bathroom, until they told us we could leave. I just wanted to be alone. Alone in my practice jersey, my cleats still on, the muddy face with tear stained eyes was all I had left. The feeling from my dream was back. And every part of my body, especially my heart, was in excruciating pain.

Driving home, the only thought in my mind was- Dad, you PROMISED not today.

Today, the fireworks are everywhere. And, just the smell of them gives me a pain in the pit of my stomach. A pain of knowing that I knew, that I couldn't save him, the pain that he's gone. And today, I miss him, I miss what my family USED to be. And, I am deeply sad.

posted by Elizabeth @ 8:26:00 PM