Standing in line at a
Walgreens pharmacy on a Sunday morning, I heard his deep, yet gravelly voice on
the other end of the line for the last time. It was the very last time I heard
his voice say “I love you.” As a child,
we were in church from the time the doors opened, until the last person
left. But this day was different. I called him while waiting, which is what
everyone does at Walgreens, wait, wait, and wait some more. The line is seemingly never-ending. That day however, on July 19, 2015, I wish it
would have taken longer. We made small
talk, discussing the change in vehicle inspection prices, and my journey to get
my car inspected. A normal discussion
for us, but so very out of the ordinary this time. I was sick, waiting to pick up an antibiotic
at the pharmacy. He was still in
bed. He knew breakfast had been cooked,
but he said “I’m just so tired.” I made
him promise me he would get out of bed and have pancakes. I inherited my ability to talk to a brick
wall from him. Yet this day, neither of
us could quite find the words to say. Silence
came between us. I said “I love you
daddy.” He replied “I love you.” Our entire conversation lasted no more than
15 minutes. I would love for it to have
lasted 150 minutes. Less than a month
later, I saw him. I don’t know if he
recognized me, I don’t know if he understood what I was saying. I had a lump in my throat the size of a plum
as I said “Hey daddy”. Less than 24
hours after seeing him, we said goodbye for now.
As the anniversary of our last exchanged “I love you” is approaching, I’m at times overcome with tears and sadness, but they are washed away at the reminder that we will see each other again. We will be reunited and we will talk the ears off of everyone in Heaven together. We may even find a golden brick wall to have a conversation with. We will laugh, we will smile, and we will be together again. Until that day, I will continue to relish in the fact that I am both loud and funny just as he was, as I am my father’s child.
As the anniversary of our last exchanged “I love you” is approaching, I’m at times overcome with tears and sadness, but they are washed away at the reminder that we will see each other again. We will be reunited and we will talk the ears off of everyone in Heaven together. We may even find a golden brick wall to have a conversation with. We will laugh, we will smile, and we will be together again. Until that day, I will continue to relish in the fact that I am both loud and funny just as he was, as I am my father’s child.
