Page 5 of Sparrow

My father was. Past tense. That’s a fact I still can’t wrap my brain around: the fact he’s gone.

Fuck cancer.

Fuck the treatments they said would work but only seemed to make him miserable.

Fuck the false hope.

Fuck the doctors.

Fuck this.

Fuck all of it.

“Amelia?” I hear from behind me, and I know without looking, it’s Nora.

“You didn’t have to come. I know it’s hard for you to take off work.”

“Please tell me you’re joking right now.” She stands beside me, shoulder to shoulder.

“I’m not. You didn’t need to lose a day of work for this. I could have handled it by myself.” I still haven’t looked at her. If I do, I’ll crack and I can’t crack.

“There isn’t anywhere else I’d be right now. I will not leave you alone. It’s not who I am. You wouldn’t leave me like that, so I won’t do that to you.” She leans her head on my shoulder. “I know it doesn’t feel like it now, but you’re going to be okay. I promise.”

My bottom lip begins to tremble. “Stop. Don’t do that, Nora. I can’t cry. If I start, I may never stop.”

She, in an unexpected, uncharacteristic choice, listens to me and remains silent. We stay this way for seconds...minutes...hours...who knows? It’s like my feet are cemented to the ground. We stand with my father’s casket, even as the guests leave the cemetery.

As the last person leaves the area, I hear the discreet sound of a throat being cleared. I look up and to my left and see the cemetery manager.

“Ma’am, it’s time,” he says with a kind expression.

I know what he’s saying. He’s telling me I need to leave so they can put my father in the ground. He’s telling me to leave so they can truly take my father away from me.

“Okay. Please give me just a few more minutes with him, and then I’ll go.”

He leaves with a nod of his head.

“Do you want me to stay?” Nora asks, as she squeezes my hand.

“No. I need just a minute alone with him. I need to say goodbye.”

“I’ll be by the car. Take as long as you need.” She kisses my cheek and begins to trek back to the parking lot.

I close my eyes then reach into my small purse, pulling a note free. It’s tattered and soft from being read so many times over the past week, since he took his last breath.

When the doctors said the final hours were approaching, he apparently asked his hospice nurse to write it for him, and when he passed, she slipped it into my hands.

I unfold it, clutching the sides with shaking hands. My eyes caress the words over and over and over.

Live your life, Amelia.

Don’t stop living it.

Chase your dreams.

No matter what anyone says.

Live.

“I will, Dad. I will.” I lean down, my tears falling like rain off my cheeks and onto the glossy wood as I place a kiss to the casket. “I promise.”

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