Scattered best describes my thoughts today. I can’t get into work. I don’t even want to, except that I am taking tomorrow off so I need to get a lot done today. Normally, it would be a good day for a solo run. A run to sort my thoughts. A run to grieve (again, still?) A run to remember. But, it’s taper time, so a run is out of the question.
So why, am I writing about this again?
Tomorrow, my family and I will meet to scatter his ashes. It seems so final and, at the same time, seems long overdue. I had planned to take a handful of ashes to the marathon with me. I was thinking that I would send the remains out into the water near the finish line. My thinking was that he would have been at the finish line if he were still alive. That is not entirely true. If the marathon were local, he would have been there. For my next race, he would have been thinking about me from California, and would patiently wait for my call to report back the results. Never the less, bringing him to the race was symbolic of him being there throughout my life for all the special moments.
He died last September after winning the fight against lymphoma. He died and we never got to say good-bye. We were robbed. After all of the chemotherapy, and the various struggles with his diabetes in relation to his cancer treatment, he took his last breath in a parking lot near the home that I grew up in. It took me by surprise, yesterday, as I took the van full of tired and hungry teens to the nearest Baskin Robins that I knew of. We drove into the parking lot, heading for our ice cream, when it hit me. We were in the parking lot where it had all ended. This was the place where my Mom frantically called out for help as the people kept walking, or insisted that she go into the nearby store to call for help. They could not do it. They couldn’t spare any of their off-peak minutes for her to call 911 from their cell phone. Apparently, the people in this part of town don’t even have cell phones. I just don’t believe it!
Okay, so I am still angry. We got the emergency room report, and I scanned it carefully. His downtime was too great to survive the insult. By the time the paramedics because resuscitation efforts it had been so long that if he had survived it would have been a horrific outcome.
I want him back. I want him to come to BoBo’s middle school graduation, and to answer the phone when I call to say that I qualified for Boston. I want to say Happy Father’s Day, and thank you for always being there for me, and just I love you. I want to say Good-Bye.