Dad had soft broad hands with the end of his nails filled smooth and smiling. When he concentrated and listened to what I had to say, he would lightly rap these nails on the top of the desk in a gentle cascading movement. As a teenager I repeatedly asked him about the meaning of life. I especially wondered after I had gone out on a rotten date with my boyfriend. I watched his nails as he pondered my question.
“Well...” he said as the nails went tap, tap, tap, tap, “I just don’t know?”
He did his best.
He always tried.
2.
“Hi Dad,” I said into the phone.
“What, what did you say,” he barked.
“I love you,” I said louder. I could hear the piercing tone of his hearing aid.
“Gull-darn-it! You'll have to wait till Peg’s back,” he said.
“Dad please don’t hang.....,” I heard the dial tone.
That night I dreamed that he could hear me. We sat quietly in the in the backyard under the apple trees and talked about the meaning of life.
The next morning I woke up to such a feeling of love and loss. He wasn’t dead like other peoples fathers but sometimes it felt like it.
1 comment:
oh rDs, this is really good. i had exactly the same conversation and the hang up in his frustration. i love your dream, so sweetly resolving. maybe you both meet in the underworld to talk.
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