Knock, Knock

Sometimes it’s the little memories that have a big impact on you.  They are so insignificant that other people who were around at that time probably don’t even remember what happened.  But you do.  You remember every moment as if it were yesterday. 

Knock, knock.   

I woke because someone was knocking on the door.  It was late at night or very early in the morning.  I was only thirteen or fourteen so it wasn’t my job to get up to answer the door.  My room was next to my parents.  Dad will get it, I thought.  But Mom was the one to get up.  I also heard my brothers come down the stairs and Mom telling them to go back to bed, which they did not.  Where was my dad?  Wasn’t he home from work yet?  He worked the 4 p.m. to 12 midnight shift.  Surely it was after midnight? 

I heard the front door open and then an unfamiliar voice started speaking.  Then everyone started talking at once.  I was curious but did not get up from bed.  I was scared to know what was going on.   

I heard mom go into her bedroom and when she came out, she opened the door to my room.  She softly called my name, “Patricia?” but I didn’t answer her.  I was afraid.  What was she going to tell me?  Who was at the door and what did they want?  Did I even want to know?  She stood there silently—I could feel her watching me as I pretended to be asleep. After a few seconds, she carefully closed my door. 

I heard more talking and then the front door closed and all was quiet again.  Where did everyone go?  All sorts of wild ideas went through my mind, all centering around my dad.  Something had happened to him, I just knew it.  I didn’t want to think any further than that.  It was unthinkable.  I lay in my bed motionless just waiting. 

After a long while, I heard the front door open and voices drifted through the house.  The one voice I wanted to hear was that of my dad.  There it was!  He was home.  Something had happened but he was alright.  My heart was at peace as I closed my eyes and fell back to sleep. 

The next morning, my brother Rick told me I had “slept” through all the commotion from the night before.  What I missed was my Dad had a minor car accident and was sent to the hospital to get checked out to make sure he was not hurt.  Thankfully, he had no injuries.  It was our neighbor who knocked on our door bringing the bad news and offering to drive my mom to the hospital.  But on this day everything turned out okay. 

I realize you are never ready or prepared to lose someone you love, especially if it is sudden, like in a car accident.  As I think back on this memory, I am glad it all turned out well that time because another memory I have from July 2, 1998 didn’t turn out as well.  On that day my brother Rick phoned to tell me our dad was gone suddenly and without warning, not in a car accident but from a brain aneurism.   

This time I could not pretend to be asleep, I could not lay in bed waiting to hear his voice, and I would not wake up the next day to find that everything was okay.  No, this time was different. 

Each and every memory I have of my dad is loved and cherished.  I don’t care how small or insignificant it is—it’s a part of him that won’t let go of me and I am thankful. 

Today, my dad would have been eighty-five years old.   

Happy birthday, Dad.  I love you. 

♥ 

~ P