“The people who want to stay in your life will always find a way." ~ Unknown
If there was a lightbulb out or
something to assemble, Kei’s Dad would do it. Same if her bike needed repair or her doll’s
arm needed reattaching, or she wanted a bookcase to display her library of
Junie B Jones books – Dad did it.
Every time he repaired something, he asked little Kei to
hold the hammer or wrench. Just so they’d
have some time for chitchat.
He never drank or took a “night out with the boys.“ Fatherhood was his calling. To him, a father’s worth was measured, in
part, by how well he knew the longings of his children’s hearts.
Every Sunday morning while Mom attended choir rehearsal, she
and Dad went to breakfast before church. It was one of her favorite parts of every week. Without fail, their chats always included
laughter, encouragement, and sports talk.
The man she’d wrapped around her finger since the day she
was born had been her softball coach thorough elementary and middle school
years. Softball provided quality time for
more bonding.
Once Kei went away to college, Dad called every Sunday morning. Years later when she bought a house, Dad painted it by himself for three days in the scorching summer heat. All he asked was for her to occasionally bring him a glass of sweet tea and sit and talk with him.
One Sunday morning, Dad
struggled to breathe so their call was unusually short. Symptoms had started a few days earlier. Kei knew her father would outrun the virus,
but it progressed so rapidly that he became hospitalized.
Flying home, she tried to
remember their last conversation.
When she arrived at the hospital, he pursed his lips so she
would kiss him. Then he closed his eyes
never to open them again. For the first
time, he didn’t have time for a conversation with her.
Later that evening, Mom asked “Did you tell him he could
go? Kei, it has to be you.”
“How could what she says matter?” Kei wondered. It had been almost 10 hours since his eyes
were open; since he spoke.
But he needed her; he needed one last conversation with Kei.
She rested her cheek gently on the hand she held with both
of her own. Kei gaze at his closed
eyelids and said, “I’ll miss you so terribly Dad, but I’ll be okay. You can go now!”
She immediately wished she hadn’t … because right then, with
those four words still vibrating in the air between them, there was the
slightest change in his being, the stillness called death. The world was as quiet as it’d ever been.
All he ever asked was for her time. And now he has all Kei’s attention every
single day.
