Dawn
I almost run to Corey’s side as I enter the room. The sight of him brings me a moment of happiness. I’m overjoyed seeing him for the first time without the tubes down his throat, without the needles pricked in every inch of his arms, without the swelling encompassing his face. I could cry from the happiness of being able to see him like this before he’s gone forever. And while I know this isn’t him; it’s obvious his presence is no longer with his earthly body, I’m grateful for the opportunity to say goodbye to someone who looks more like my husband. Someone who can wear his wedding ring comfortably again, someone who can fit in his clothes again, someone who looks at peace.
Thomas
I’m so lost in my thoughts I don’t hear my mom enter the room. She faces us all, and her eyes look like she’s pleading with each one of us individually. I can’t take away her suffering either.
“Dad is ready for anyone who wants to see him.”
We’ve decided to see him first as a family, before making the decision on an open or closed casket. We’re torn between the two options and Mom’s been reluctant in making the final verdict. She wants it to be a family decision; all opinions heard and the decision to be a consensus among the four of us.
Kristen stands up, and walks towards Mom. Natalie hasn’t moved an inch since Mom entered the room. As Kristen and Mom begin to walk towards the room where Dad lays, I sit down next to Natalie. She doesn’t even flinch.
“You okay?” I mutter.
“I don’t think I can do this.”
She turns to face me as she finishes her sentence. I had no idea she was crying until I see her eyes. Her body looks fragile and weak.
“You don’t have to. I can go in there and say it’s a no to the open casket. They will understand.”
She’s shaking her head as I’m talking.
“I can’t do that. I’ll be the reason no one gets to say goodbye. I know I’m the only one standing in the way of having an open casket. I’m just so…”
She’s sniffling with each tear as she continues to go on.
“I’m just so scared.”
I pull her into my shoulder and hold her as tight as I possibly can. Feeling each tear run through her body, each deep breath she takes as her lungs search for every bit of air. All I manage to whisper back is, “Me too. Me too.”
When her breathing slows down, we stand up together and walk towards the room. She stays about three steps behind me as we approach the door. I reach back for her hand, but she shakes her head. “I’ll be okay. Go ahead. I’ll be right in.”
I try looking for verification in her eyes, but I can’t fully read her expressions. She looks so young right now, like a scared little girl when the lights switch off.
I trust my intuition and walk inside the room.
I don’t have a chance to fully exhale before the tears well up in my eyes. How has it come to this? It’s blatantly obvious this isn’t my dad. He looks so lifeless, but is that really a surprise? His soul has left him. And while the man lying here looks like my dad, even with the swelling removed and the color given back to his face, this isn’t him. I didn’t realize I’d moved since I entered the room, but suddenly I’m reaching for his hand. He’s cold to the touch. The temperature of his hand is clarification of his lifeless body.
I hear my sobs echo in the room around me. I’m not making this any easier for anyone. I turn to try to find Natalie but she isn’t in the doorway anymore. Look what you’ve done. You’ve scared her during the one moment you were supposed to be strong.
Kristen
I walk into the room with my mom. The nerves are taking over my stomach as I turn the corner. My dad is the first thing I see when I enter the room. I’m overwhelmed by the look of him. His hands are resting too perfectly on his stomach; it doesn’t look real. He looks like a wax statue. How is this reality? How am I in a room staring at my unrecognizable dad? I need his hug right now. His arms could take away any pain. Now I have nothing.
Natalie
I’m staring at myself in the mirror while I cry in the bathroom. Teeth clenched, I wipe away the tears. You need to pull yourself together. Both hands are resting on top of my head as I try to search for any strength left in me. I need to do this. Pinching my skin above my hand, I attempt to redirect my pain. I walk out of the bathroom before I let another tear fall from my eyes.
I peek into the room and see my mom and siblings sitting in the chairs set up on the other side of the room. No one is talking. Each of their heads hang low and they’re holding hands. It looks like they are praying, but I can’t be sure. I walk over and sit down next to Mom. I haven’t been able to make eye contact with Dad. I need to make it over to my siblings and mother first. I need to be surrounded by them so I don’t have a chance to run away again.
My mom holds my hand and whispers “I can walk over there with you.” I nodded my head in agreement.
As we approach the casket, I take one last deep breath. You can do this. I raise my head and let my eyes focus on my dad. “He looks terrible,” I screech. I slowly start taking steps backwards. Mom is surprised when she faces me.
“Really? I think he looks great.”
Are we looking at the same person?!
“No, no, no. Look at his finger!”
I can’t do this anymore.
“It’s grey!”
He looks fake and his fingers-- they aren’t even the right color!
I turn around and head back for my chair. The sight of my dad is shocking, I can’t even cry. I simply bury my head into my hands and sit in disbelief. Am I missing something? Am I being too tough?
Kristen rubs my back and lets me sit in silence. My mom comes next to me and, without making eye contact, I know she is crying. Look what you’ve done, Natalie.
“I’m so unbelievably sorry. I thought he looked great, that’s why I told everyone to come see. I didn’t want to upset you.”
Her voice is frail, yet genuine.
“I didn’t want to upset any of you.”
Thomas responds, “You didn’t, Mom. How could you have known? I think he looks great too.”
Kristen adds, “I think so too.”
I begin to raise my head and look at my mom. Her eyes look exhausted and her face appears to have aged ten years overnight. I’m adding more stress to her life right now, when I should be doing the opposite.
“No, I’m sorry.” I finally blurt out.
“I was just taken aback by seeing him again.”
I look to my siblings. Both their eyes are begging me to keep going on.
“He looks great, Mom. He really does.”
I struggle to say each word without giving away how I really feel.
When we leave the room, my mom updates Mark on our decision to have an open casket for the public. I know it’s what my family wants. And right now, I want whatever they want.
Thomas
Before we leave the funeral home, I tell my mom I left my phone in the room. I head back inside with my phone tucked securely in my pocket, looking for Mark. When I finally find him, I quickly tell him, “Can you please add more color to his fingers before tomorrow.”
|2:34 PM|
Kristen
By now, family members and friends are slowly starting to show up at the house. When the Huggler family arrives, Mom jumps to greet them at the door. Mom and Savannah have been friends ever since we moved to Pennsylvania. Moving to North Carolina was only hard on my mom because she was leaving her best friend behind. Luckily, they have remained close and maintain their calls to catch up on each others’ life.
Mom brings them into the dining room and we all gather around to catch up. I haven’t seen their family in years, and it’s nice to have the comfort of friends around. When Mom starts to delve into the details of the weekend, I watch Natalie tense up. She seems more than just simply uncomfortable; she looks pissed off.
I try to ignore her, but when she suddenly storms off it's hard to let it go. What happe
ned?
Natalie
I run into my room and lock the door.
My knees buckle and my butt hits the ground. My head falls forward and I have déjà vu of the hospital. I let out every sob, holding nothing back. How can they talk about this with everyone? It’s enough to have the memory in my mind; I don’t need to recount each aspect every time a new family member or friend comes into town.
My heart is heavy because I know I can’t tell them how I feel. I can’t tell anyone how I feel without coming off completely selfish, which I know I’m being. “Excuse me, yes, can you please not talk about the details of his death because it physically pains me every time I hear you mention the hospital or each time we recount how many units of blood he was given or listening to how he was unconscious when we had to say goodbye?”
|7:58 PM|
Dawn
Corey’s family fills every seat in the kitchen.
I’m exhausted and ready to head to bed when the lights are turned off. I anxiously turn around, trying to figure out what the glimpse of light in the distance is. Then I remember.
It’s Ed's 86th birthday.
I listen to the singing slowly get louder, but I don’t join in. I can’t. I can’t stop thinking about the card sitting on the nightstand next to Corey’s side of the bed. I’d been nagging him for days to sign his dad’s birthday card. Now it’s too late.
I watch Ed blow out his candles. I wonder what he’s wishing for?
Part VII
THURSDAY
MARCH 28TH
- SEVENTEEN -
|5:53 AM|
Dawn
I can’t sleep any longer. I slip out of the bedroom and quietly walk to the kitchen. My morning routine is important to me. This consistency reminds me that I'm still in control of my life. I start the coffee pot and water the plants inside the house.
By the time I water the last plant in the dining room, the coffee pot is full enough to pour myself a cup. I grab my mug and head to the office. The routine allows me to sit up taller in my swivel chair. I open my laptop, just like any other day, and scan through my emails. Our dentist has sent us a reminder message for Corey’s upcoming appointment. Crap. I hadn’t gotten to the task of calling doctors on my to-do list. I can feel my shoulders shrug in my self-disappointment.
The knock on the front door makes me sit up straight again. Who could this be?
As I open the door, I notice the Panera Bread logo on the young man's hat.
“Good Morning. I have a delivery for the Owen family?”
I’m confused, but I still manage to mumble, “Oh, okay.”
I’m trying to think who sent the food when I notice the delivery man awkwardly looking around.
“Yes, sorry, come on in.”
My thoughts are all over the place.
As I welcome him into the house, my eyes fall onto the mess in my dining room. I need to get this room picked up before everyone gets out of bed. Another task I hadn’t gotten to on my never-ending list. I need to shower and get ready. I need to get my life together. What is happening to me?!
I’m losing control.
|3:16 PM|
Kristen
I throw my eyeliner onto the bathroom tile. Of all days, today is not the day for my eyeliner to keep smudging.
I can feel tears of frustration welling up. I place both hands on the bathroom counter and slowly raise my head up. I let my eyes soak in my reflection and remind myself my makeup doesn’t matter. Why am I so fixed on looking perfect? No one will remember what I look like. Everyone will be focused on something else, someone else. My arms feel weak as I imagine Dad lying there with people circling around him. Who will come? Will I know everyone who will be there? Am I going to feel out of place at my own dad’s funeral?
I imagine a few work colleagues will come. It’ll be nice to finally put faces to names. I think back to the countless work stories Dad would tell us. How will everyone react? How will we comfort people we’ve never met before?
Maybe I won’t have to; maybe no one from his work will come. I let my mind reflect on this thought. If no one comes, how will we feel? How will Mom react?
I don’t know what to do anymore; my head is spinning thinking about what the next few hours will bring. I look back up at myself and before I process what I’m doing, I make the sign of the cross.
The knock on the door startles me enough to drop the makeup wipe in my hand.
“You almost done? Mom wants to head out soon.”
I can hear Thomas walking away before he finishes his sentence. I’m grateful for the interruption because I have no idea who I’m praying to or what I’m asking for. I look back at the smudges on my face. I swear if I don’t get my eyeliner on this try, I’m washing my face and going without any makeup.
Thomas
I don’t look at my phone as I wait in the kitchen for everyone else. I’m not watching T.V. or even listening to music. I don’t do anything I normally do to pass the time while I wait, because I don’t want to speed up time. I don’t want to distract myself as the minutes go by. If anything, I want to sit here in this kitchen and wait forever. Never go to the funeral home, never watch my sisters and Mom see Dad lying in his coffin, never greet family members in just as much disbelief as I am. I want to sit here and avoid doing any of it.
The noise of the door slowly opening catches my attention. I turn to face my parents’ bedroom door and watch as Natalie slowly walks out. Her arms crossed across her chest, it looks like she’s holding herself up. It’s apparent she feels uncomfortable and out of place in our own home, but then again, don’t we all? She slumps down in the chair next to me, and stares into the distance. Neither of us say a word. We patiently wait for the next person to enter into the kitchen, into the silence.
After nearly ten minutes of complete silence, Mom finally walks out from her room. Her eyes meet mine and a smile gradually appears across her face.
“You look nice.”
The compliment feels strange considering the circumstances, but I know she’s trying her best to create a more familiar scene.
“Thanks.” I rub the stubble on my chin.
I decided not to shave my stubble in honor of Dad. People always tell me I look more like him when I have facial hair.
“Is Kristen almost ready?” Mom asks.
“I knocked on her door a little bit ago to tell her to hurry up.”
“No big deal. We will get there when we get there.”
She pulls out a chair and sits beside us in the living room. The silence returns and there is nothing to do to avoid the awkwardness creeping into the room. Is this how family gatherings are going to be from this moment onward?
|4:07 PM|
Natalie
As I step out of the car, my ankle rolls and I curse myself for wearing even the smallest heel. Mark meets us at the door with a half smile. It doesn’t feel right to smile back, so I redirect my eyes to the ground, carefully watching each step I take.
My feet completely stop when I enter the funeral home. The moment I walk in the door, I feel his presence all around us. There are pieces of him everywhere. I walk into the chapel and our photos illuminate the room. The slideshow I made is playing in every room, reminding me of better days. As the four of us slowly walk around the chapel, taking in each individual photo, no one mutters a word. How is this happening right now? I can hear each sniffle and the movement of hands quietly wiping away tears. Even with the picture boards surrounding us, it still doesn’t feel like our own dad’s funeral.
We make our way through the hallway into the room where Dad is lying. I can smell the flowers before I reach it; each flower competing to perfume the room. The sight of all of the arrangements makes my eyes water. I can’t believe this many people sent flowers. We take turns reading out names as we pace around the room.
“Wow! My nursing class sent some.” Kristen yells out.
Thomas joins, “Yeah, this one is from my college baseball team. I can’t
believe they did that…”
My mom’s shocked when she adds, “Guys, this is from Dad’s old boss!”
How did he find out?
I run my hands across every single card. Old neighbors, the business office of my school, my accounting professors, friends from church. I’m truly amazed at the love and support. He is so loved; it’s apparent today.
I turn the corner, and I see him. I see him lying there, finally looking at peace for once. The flowers around him are vibrant and colorful. I take each step slowly, focusing on my breathing, trying to calm my mind before reaching him. He looks better. When I finally make it to his side, I reach down to hold his hand. The color of his finger releases some of the tightness in my chest. How did they know? How did they fix it?
|4:23 PM|
Thomas
I watch Natalie make her way to Dad, and I decide to give her time alone to talk to him. I keep walking towards the reception room to see the song lyrics and the items from his office we’d picked up earlier in the week. Before I get to the song lyrics, something catches my eyes on the table in the center of the room. I don’t recognize it, and I was the one who loaded everything into the boxes to take to the funeral home yesterday. I try squinting to see if I can get a better look but I still can’t make it out, so I change direction and walk over. I can feel the air inside of my lungs slowly leave as my brain figures out what it is.
I hold the Aquaman toy up to get a better look. Who did this? Who put this here? I turn it over, looking frantically for a note. How did they know?
I turn my head around, anxiously looking around, trying to search for any clues. I let my eyes focus back on the toy figure. Suddenly, I feel a rush of emotions. My heart aches from an overwhelming sense of already missing him and his humor.
How will we get through life without him cracking jokes every step of the way?
|4:58 PM|
Kristen
Family arrives first. I watch as close relatives each take their own moment with Dad. Some crying so uncontrollably it’s hard to console them, others still in disbelief. I watch people lean on Mom’s shoulder. I listen to her comfort those reminiscing about the people they have lost. She has to be there for others even when it should be the other way around.
Top Down Day Page 18
