A Memory Just for Me

I hate to spoil the wonderful summer fun with a sad story, but today marks a day I will never forget, and I would like to tell about it.

Three years ago today I was a sophomore in college and I had just moved into a new apartment with three other girls. It was my first year living as an adult (the previous year I had lived in the dorms, so it didn't count) and I needed adult things, like a desk in my room. My mom and I had spent the majority of the morning shopping for said desk, and I had finally picked one that I liked. We bought it and took it back to my apartment. We were going to assemble it as quickly as we could so I could finish unpacking and organizing my stuff. We had just put together the first few pieces of the desk when my mom received a weird phone call. She got off the phone, told me to put on my shoes and grab my keys because we needed to go back to her house for something. I was confused and a lot more than worried, so I did. She went outside and made another phone call, and when I got to my car we left. I still didn't know what was going on as I began driving, but I had a feeling that something was going on with my dad. I knew even before she told me anything, but I asked "What happened to Dad" anyway. Her response, "Well, your dad might be dead" made the feelings real. In reality, there was no "might" about it. My eyes started to well up with tears, uncontrollably, but I had to pull it together because (as you may recall) I was the one driving the vehicle. I freaked out the entire way to my mom's house, and let the tears flow when I got there.

Not long after, a police officer showed up to the house. You always see that scene in movies or TV shows, where the police officer dreads having to tell someone the worst news they will ever receive. It seemed so surreal when the officer was led into the living room where we sat together. "I'm so sorry to have to tell you this, but your father passed away last night."  It was official now. He had gone to bed, as usual, but sometime in the night he had suffered a heart attack that took his life. He lived alone, but he worked delivering newspapers in the morning, and when he didn't show up for work, it was worrisome, since he had never missed a day without having arranged a substitute. Someone from the paper went over to his house, where his car was parked in the garage, however the numerous knocks on the door simply resulted in silence. The police were called, they found a spare key and entered the house, where they found my dad. The officer told me that he looked very peaceful when they found him, which comforted me a little for the time.

I spent most of that day at my mom's house. We had people coming to talk to me, check on me, and comfort me all day. I appreciated all the love, but at that moment, I wanted to curl up in a ball and cry until this nightmare passed. Unfortunately, life moved forward and I had to move with it, since this was, in fact, not a nightmare. I talked to my brother (my brother and I are my dad's only kids) and he probably made me feel the best of anyone else at that moment. He was flying into town as soon as he could to come help with funeral arrangements. Wait... a funeral? I was 19 years old, and I had never even been to a funeral before, let alone plan one. 

Eventually I had to go to my dad's house for the first time since I received the news. I was escorted by my other brother, which was comforting. I would not have been able to go through that alone. Walking into the house was such a strange moment for me. Everything was exactly in place. I would have been able to tell you (with a reasonable amount of confidence) what my dad had been doing before going to bed. His dishes from dinner were still in the sink. The last record that he had listened to was still on the turntable. There was a dent in his armchair from where he sat alone nearly every night. It broke my heart to know that he would never return to his chair, or listen to the record player I had just bought him for Father's Day, or cook his fantastic food again. I cried more. 

Then came the funeral planning and the massive duty of cleaning out my dad's house. My brother and I worked everyday of his visit going through closets, dressers, boxes, and cabinets deciding what mementos of our father we wanted to keep. I learned so much about my dad in those few days, which only made me miss him more. I had questions I wanted to ask him about himself. I knew there were so many things I had never thought to learn about him, and I was suddenly desperate to know all of them. The funeral planning wasn't any easier. I had no idea what to expect or what he would want. In all of our searching my brother and I never found a will. We were making decisions blindly, going only by what we knew about our dad. We laughed together as we worked things out, reminiscing about our dad and imagining what he would say in response to the choices we were making on his behalf. 

Then the day was upon us. The day we would say good-bye to my dad at his funeral. There was a viewing the day before at our local church. We had set up one of the rooms as a history of his life, with tables filled with pictures of his life from the time he was a baby, to his years on the football team in high school, to the times he got to spend with his children. Throughout the course of the day we played some of his favorite music through the vintage inspired record player that I had given him. When the time came for me to enter the room and see my dad for the first time, clothed in white and laying in the beautiful coffin we had picked out for him, it was almost too much to handle. I walked into the church building and made it halfway to the room when my feet suddenly stopped working, and my eyes were blurred from the tears that had suddenly welled up. One of the people who was with us took the box I was carrying and my sister-in-law comforted me as we walked slowly together to face what was unimaginable to me. 

I made it into the room and immediately walked to my brother. We stood together, crying and looking at the man who had spent the last many years of his life struggling so hard to care for us, his precious children. Nothing prepares you for that moment and the realization that this man, who you expected to be there for the rest of your life, was never going to be able to be a part of it any more.

I had a few moments with family before the casket was closed and I would never see my dad again. I took those moments to stand beside him and run my fingers through his hair, with my aunt by my side stroking his hand. My dad and I shared our thick curly hair, and he was always so proud of how much of it he had left. I was surprised at how soft his hair felt. Tears streamed down my face as I looked at my beloved father for the last time. 

The funeral was a beautiful mix of genuine love and heartfelt sorrow. I still couldn't believe that it was I who was the one receiving condolences and comfort for a tragic loss in my life. We celebrated my dad's life that night by going to his favorite local steak restaurant and enjoying some of his favorite dishes. We shared memories of him and of the joy he brought to each of us. 

 A short time later, I flew out to California, which was the place my dad grew up (and it was very possibly his favorite place in the world). We buried him in Forest Lawn Cemetery in Hollywood Hills, which, as far as I know, is the most beautiful cemetery in the world. I spent the rest of the trip with my brother and my dad's family. We ate at some of the traditional places for my dad (Big Boy, The Hat, In-N-Out, etc.). It was a time spent remembering him, and coming closer together as a family. 

The hardest thing for me to think about, even after time has passed, is knowing all the wonderful and special times in my life that my dad will not be here for. It was a bittersweet day in January (on my dad's birthday) when I walked down the aisle to marry my best friend. I had chosen to walk down the aisle alone, but the weight of that decision did not fully hit me until the day of my wedding. Thankfully, I was a little swept up in last minute preparations and I was able to keep it together. That is something that I had always expected my dad to be a part of, though. And my husband will never fully understand the man who helped raise me, since he never got to meet him. Another thing that breaks my heart is thinking of my children and the love from my dad that they will never know. They will be missing a grandparent from the day they are born. I'm pretty sure that this is a thought that is more painful to me than it will be for my children, since I also grew up missing both my dad's parents. But it is still an experience I would rather have him be a part of. 

Regardless of the sadness that comes along with lost potential, there is joy in the times that we were able to spend together. I feel very lucky that I was able to see past notions I had about my dad when I was younger and grow to have a beautiful relationship with him. He surpassed his role of father to me, and became a friend. The last few years we were able to spend together are times I will always treasure (despite the normal frustration that comes between teenagers and parents). The overall lesson that I have learned here is that, even when your whole world falls apart, and life seems to be nothing but a horrible nightmare, the sun always rises, and a new day always dawns. The things that you have lost may be gone forever, but that does not mean that it is the end. You have no idea what beautiful things are about to come your way unless you pick yourself up a little each day, and recognize the world of possibilities ahead of you.

There will always be a special place in my heart for my dad, and I am mostly grateful for the time we got to spend together and the impact that he had on my life. That is something I will never lose.

 (that's a proud papa)

(Harrison family all together)

 (High School Graduation-2010)

(Funeral at Forest Lawn Cemetery- August 2011)

Forever Loved.