Samson and Sunset

by Dorothy Annie Schritt

  We made hot passionate love under that trailer. I think sometimes we forgot we were old enough to have kids at all.

  ***

  One night Mom called me and told me Daddy had been sick all day. She said he had been feeling dizzy, and asked if I could take him to the doctor the next day.

  I said, “Of course.”

  We didn’t get good news. They found a spot on Daddy’s lung and thought it might be cancer. So Shay, Kelly, Wes, Mom, Dad and I went to Omaha to the big medical center so Dad could get a biopsy.

  It was confirmed: he had lung cancer. I can’t even bring myself to write about it. My life seemed to end right there. I was devastated. I couldn’t think straight. They said he had about six months to live. This was my greatest fear. Death had caught up with me again.

  We had lost Grandma and Grandpa Westover several years ago, and that had certainly left a hole in the family, and in my heart. Now here it was again, death knocking at my door.

  Without Shay, I don’t know what I would have done. Kelly and Wes cried a lot, they didn’t care who saw their tears. They loved Grandpa John so much. I was so heartsick I’m not sure I was able to console them. I can only hope that Shay was there to console their little broken hearts. I was numb again.

  I spent a lot of time with Dad the next week or so, and the two of us shared many tears. Dad had things he wanted to say to all his loved ones, but, while he loved to hug, it was hard for him to express himself. So I one day I got a pen and paper and told him to say whatever he wanted to each person and I would write it down for him. He liked that idea and said what was in his heart. I was so happy that he was able to leave each and every one of us a letter telling us how much he loved us and would love us forever.

  ***

  One afternoon a friend of mine was paying me a visit and she told me about a clinic her mother’s friend had gone to down in Mexico. She said her mother’s friend had very good results. Armed with the lady’s address, I went to her house to talk to her and got some good information. But, oh dear, I thought; it probably cost a fortune. How could we afford it when we were pinching pennies as it was? When I left the lady’s house I went to the library and did some research. Everything I found was doom and gloom. I was heartsick.

  That night I bathed and spent at least an hour crying in the tub. Afterward, I dried myself and crawled into bed. I was whimpering like a baby and Shay pulled me over to him and held me close.

  “Shay,” I said softly, “there’s this clinic in Mexico… They might be able to save Daddy, but it costs so much money.”

  “How much are we talking, Callie?” he asked, stroking my arm.

  Shay was so patient with me. The fact is Shay loved my dad. The two men had had their differences, but they had come through them respecting each other. Like the time Shay left me standing in a blizzard, pregnant; Daddy called Shay out on things like that. My dad made Shay accountable for his actions in a way that Sterling didn’t.

  “I’m not sure, Shay, but I’ll bet it’s hundreds of thousands of dollars.”

  Shay held me as I sobbed like a little child. Then he said, “Callie, I have the money.”

  “What?” I asked. “How could you have the money?”

  “I have my trust fund, and we still have some from the hospital settlement.”

  “Shay, you’ve had me struggling the last few years and here we have the money? How could you do that to me!”

  “Now, Callie, do you want to be mad at me for saving money, or do you want to be happy that I have the money to take your dad to Mexico?”

  He had me there.

  ***

  We took the whole family and were off to Mexico. It was winter and we went out on Interstate 80, through Salt Lake City, Utah, then Highway 15 to Vegas, into California, to the border. We stayed at the Hotel del Coronado in San Diego. All of the patients stayed there. A van came and took us to the clinic across the border into Mexico.

  It was a clean, fancy place and the patient would be seeing several doctors all day. They would decide on the correct treatment, send the patient home to do the treatments; then see them again in six months. Daddy really liked this place. They had cabinets full of files on every patient, listed by the types of cancer. You could go through the files if you liked and get anyone’s name and phone number. You were welcome to call them and see how the treatment had worked for them.

  Doc Etherton, Kelly’s old O.B. doctor, had had lymph cancer, and every year he left for a few weeks and stayed at the clinic. I found his name in the file and it was a Hudson number. He was still alive; that was encouraging to me.

  When it was time for the patients to get ready to leave, they all received a bill. There was a small desk where you went to pay. X-rays were separate. The total of the bill for the whole day, X-rays, treatment, medicine and everything, was six-hundred-and-fifty-three dollars. Guess Shay should have kept quiet about all the money he had.

  Not that it mattered; I just wanted my daddy to get well.

  Like A Thief In The Night

  Daddy lived seventeen months total after he was diagnosed. The tumor was gone but he had emphysema and then he got pneumonia. School was out for the year, so I took the children to my parents’ house, where we stayed for all of June. Helping mom and being near Daddy was something the kids and I wanted to do. Daddy didn’t want us to leave.

  Shay spent as much time as he could with us, but he also did a little more trucking. There was no reason for him to be home alone nights, so he took some grain loads out of state. I missed him so much. I needed his strong, loving arms to give me strength. I asked God to bring him home soon, as Daddy was getting weaker by the day. I couldn’t stand to watch his dignity leave him. But let me tell you a little secret I’ve always had, maybe Dad thought his dignity had left him, but I always only saw a hero. I saw a man who wanted to shield his family from his pain; a real man, with more dignity then I will ever have in life or death. There were days he couldn’t look at us; it was too painful for him. I’m sure he thought he was letting us down. He probably wondered how we’d survive without him. Daddy was always our rock.

  One Saturday night Shay called from somewhere in North Dakota, where he was deadheading to pick up a load. He said he would be home Monday before noon.

  “Please hurry, Shay,” I said, “I need you. We all need you! Please hurry!” I was crying softly and I know Shay just didn’t know what to say.

  “I love you, princess. I’ll see you Monday,” he told me and hung up.

  Sunday was Father’s Day. I had bought a card for Daddy from me, and the kids had all gotten Grandpa cards.

  I told the kids we could go shopping and get Daddy a shirt if they wanted. We ran to a few stores and they picked out a beautiful shirt for Shay and had it gift-wrapped.

  “Mom,” Kelly said, “I feel so bad that I am giving Dad a gift and I can’t give one to my grandpa.”

  “I feel the same way,” said Wes sadly. “But I am glad to have my dad alive and well. I never want to see him like Grandpa is, Mom.”

  I couldn’t argue with them, I felt sick to my stomach as we shopped. At a certain point the realization hit me: I would never again have a daddy to shop for on Father’s Day. One of those little things you take for granted ’til they’re gone.

  It was a hard day for Dad. You could hear his chest gurgling, filling with fluids. He said he was real hungry and I hoped it wasn’t that ‘death hunger’ I’d heard about, where a person eats a big meal and then they die that evening. I hoped my imagination was running amuck. It had been so hard for me watching Daddy die a little more every day. It was a long process, like watching a turtle try to crawl out of his shell. The shell would remain but the turtle would be gone.

  Gone where? Gone to heaven to be with God. It was the only answer I had and it would have to be enough.

  Then, like a thief in the night, God came and sucked the last breath Daddy exhaled into Himself, and Daddy once again was part of God.

  It was aroun
d 10:00 p.m., Father’s Day night.

  I had two children sobbing uncontrollably. Martha was there with her husband, Zack. Kelly and Wes ran out of the front door and down the middle of the street. I went chasing after them in the dark.

  When I finally caught them we sat down on the curb awhile and talked and prayed together. They both wanted Shay, they kept saying, “Oh, Daddy, please come home now.” When we walked back to Mom’s house we were silent. We couldn’t feel anything. I finally got them to bed. I didn’t want them up when they came to take Daddy’s shell away.

  I told Mom I was going to sleep in my car in front of the funeral home that night so Daddy wouldn’t be alone; being alone was one of his fears. I think my mother understood, as she knew me well.

  It had been misting rain all evening, one of those sweet Nebraska summer mists. I drove to Westover to get my pillow and blanket. I could have gotten one at Mom’s, but I just needed some time by myself to drive in silence and remember Daddy.

  I felt empty; like a shell myself. I’d spent my life fearing this moment and now it had arrived. Shay, I told myself, I had Shay. He would be my rock. He would envelop my body with his and I’d bury my life in his strength. He’d hold me tight and give me what I needed. ‘Oh Shay, please hurry home,’ I thought as I drove down the gravel road toward our house.

  To my surprise and overwhelming joy, Shay’s truck was there. I was so thankful to God for answering my prayers; my love, my Shay, was home. Then I noticed a strange car parked by the side of the house. I parked and went to the front door, turned the doorknob and went inside.

  There, right there on my sofa, was Shay sitting close to some girl. They were both drinking a beer. I think I shocked Shay as much as he shocked me. I just stood there a few seconds, not saying a word. After a little while I climbed the stairs to our room and got my pillow and a blanket. I heard Shay coming up the stairs behind me. I didn’t look at him. I was silent.

  Shay was a wreck, he kept saying, “Callie, what are you doing? Callie, where are you going?” He followed me down the stairs. He looked over at the girl and said, “Get out. Just get out of here; leave!”

  I didn’t even look at her. I walked out the door with my pillow and blanket. Shay was right behind me trying to stop me, but I just kept walking. I put the bedding in the backseat. Shay held my door shut so I couldn’t get into my car.

  “I’m not letting you leave,” he said. “You’re not going.”

  I just stood there with my head down. I never said one word; I never looked at him. I tried to open the door again. I could tell he was in a panic.

  “Callie, say something. Do something!” Shay’s voice became wild. “Hit me. Spit in my face! I don’t like seeing you like this. You’re scaring me. Please, princess, do something!”

  I just stared at the ground. The Callie he knew would have had a hissy fit, thrown the woman out, slapped Shay’s face and called him every name in the book. But this Callie, she was silent, gaunt, defeated.

  “Callie, she’s nothing,” he was saying. “I stopped for a beer and she followed me home, so I asked her in for a beer. It’s nothing, Callie, she means nothing.”

  I just stood there not looking at him, not saying a word. Shay finally stepped back quietly and opened the car door so I could get in. He had tears in his eyes. I could see them reflecting in the yard lights, right along with the mist that was feathering down. I got into my car and drove away.

  The light misty rain hit my windshield, my eyes streamed over with tears. I put an eight-track tape in the player; it was Elvis’ song, “Never Again.” His words rang true in my heart at that very moment:

  I New Rom hope I never ever love anyone this much again

  I can't take it anymore, I’ve been hurt before

  Never ever quite like this time.

  My life had ended. How could he pick up a girl and take her into our home, the night when I needed him most?

  Somehow I made it through a blur of mist and tears to the funeral home, parked out front and just lay down on the front seat. I didn’t get my pillow or my blanket. In one day I had lost the only two men I’d ever loved.

  ***

  I don’t remember the funeral. My mind blacked out the next few days. Somehow I managed to walk through everything. I do remember that Daddy’s burial plot was beneath the tallest tree in the cemetery, the exact spot where Kelly had been conceived. Kelly had been my daddy’s whole life. I thought to myself, God truly worked that one out. I placed my precious little red rose necklace that Shay had given me into Daddy’s folded hands. I wanted my precious gift from Shay to always be near Daddy.

  Shay drove the kids and me in our car in the funeral procession, and then there was a gathering at my mother’s house. My parents had two neighbors who I really appreciated at this point. One was a young man with long hair. He was a druggie, but he never hid that fact. A Vietnam veteran, he’d had a hard time readjusting to life at home. Neighbors snubbed him because of his drug habit. But he always walked across the street to talk to Daddy. Several times a day during my dad’s last year the young man would come over and carry Daddy out to the front porch. He’d put him in a chair and cover him with a blanket. Then about half an hour later, he’d come back and put Daddy back in bed. He was just downright kind to all of us, and he asked nothing in return.

  The other neighbor was a guy named Harrison who lived with his wife, kitty-corner from my parents’ house. He was my dad’s age and he would come over and sit and visit with Daddy. Sometimes he brought rolls for all of us. Since I was there helping Mom, I sat and visited with him several times. It helped having someone to talk to about Daddy.

  During the dinner after the funeral, I told Shay I wasn’t going home with him. He was stunned. This wasn’t his Callie. Shay always knew his Callie would get over other women; she would never leave him. He knew how much I loved him. He was silent and he watched my every move as I made the rounds hugging everyone who had attended. I was grateful for their compassion. I know I hugged the young man before he left, and I remember giving Harrison a couple of hugs. Shay finally came over to me and said he was going to leave for a while. He gave me a hug and said, “I love you Callie, I’ll let you spend this time with your mother, but I’ll be back tomorrow morning.”

  I just turned and walked away. After Shay left, Harrison pulled me aside and said he’d like to talk to me. How nice, I thought, at least there were people who cared. I told him I had to see all the guests out and that if he came back that evening I’d have time to talk to him.

  When everyone was finally gone, Mom and I looked at each other with empty eyes and hearts. We felt so alone. I didn’t know what I was doing; I was numb. There was such emptiness in the house. Martha and her family were staying in a motel because the kids and I were staying with Mom. ‘Hear my heart,’ I prayed. ‘Hear it, Shay. Come back here tonight and hold me.’ If Shay had come back to Mom’s that night I would have fallen into his arms. But he was a proud man and I had asked him to leave, so he did.

  Well, the dreaded evening was setting in. Martha and her family came back to Mom’s and the kids played in the basement. I had completely forgotten that Harrison had wanted to talk to me until he knocked on the door. I greeted him with a hug. He was Daddy’s friend, so I loved him. I got him a cup of coffee and myself a glass of tea with juice, and went out and sat on Mom’s front porch with him.

  “Well, now we can talk,” I said, thinking he wanted to tell me something wonderful about Daddy to soften my grief.

  “I’ve been watching you the last few weeks,” Harrison took my hand and looked into my eyes, “and you turn me on so much. I have a three-carat diamond ring I bought overseas when I was in the Armed Services. I will give you that diamond,” he continued, “if you give me a blowjob. I really need one from you.”

  If I hadn’t been so numb and brain-dead at that moment, I would have shut him down at “you turn me on.” I sat there a second, trying to take in what I’d just heard him say. After it all
hit home, I jumped up and threw my tea on him.

  “You dirty son of a bitch,” I said loudly. “You fucker! Get the hell off this porch and don’t you ever come back here, you bastard—or I’ll call the police!”

  I turned and ran into Mom’s house.

  “What’s wrong?” asked Mom.

  Martha looked up. “What happened, Kathrine?”

  I blurted it out and they gasped, shocked as I was. Here was an upstanding citizen, a respected man of the community, asking his recently deceased friend’s daughter for a blowjob the day of the funeral. The Vietnam druggie was the one people avoided and spoke badly about, but he was the true, upstanding character. He had never wanted anything except to help Daddy. People are a strange lot.