Page 83 of Truce Of The Matter

“I think so too and you are going to like him. He’s a good one and I’m really happy with him.”

“Does he know?” she asks and I’m very frank.

“Yes. I also tell him everything. His little girl, Aryel, doesn’t know because she’s just seven.”

Her only response is a nod and I’ll take it. Then, she eats some more of her oxtails. I take the moment to enjoy some of my greens and chicken too.And her too.Any time with my baby is always welcomed and embraced.

After a few more forkfuls of her oxtails and rice, she closes her box then sips her lemonade. Although she is moving at a normal pace, it feels like slow motion because I’m waiting on her news about my dad. I speak to him almost daily, even if the calls are brief and he sounds okay. I just saw him last week and he looked fine. And God knows, I need him to be as good as he looks. I truly couldn’t fathom losing him too.

“Since I’ve been home, I barely see Daddy. He comes home late and is usually gone by the time I get up. He says that he’sgoing to the church for prayer meetings, Bible study, and deacon meetings but it ain’t that much church in the world.”

“You think something is wrong?”

“I don’t think anything is wrong, wrong but something ain’t right. Like today. It’s Monday and when I got up around nine, he was gone and when I left, he hadn’t come back. That’s at least four hours. At least. Four hours is a long time for church on any day but especially a Monday.”

My mind starts churning at her words:He is gone a lot, damn near every day and Daddy is not sociable. His life was family, the restaurant, and the church. But every day at the church? I don’t think so. But I’ve been talking to him. He’s fine. Well, he was fine but shit! Because of the wedding, I didn’t talk to him all weekend.Panic and worry permeate my spirit as my thoughts run wild.

“Did you go by the church to see if he’s there?” I ask. My box of food is closed and my keys are in the desk drawer. I’m ready to open it, snatch up my purse, and head to the church if she responds in the negative.

“No. I came straight here.”

Before she finishes her answer, my tote is out and I’m standing. “We need to go check,” I tell her.

“Now you’re scaring me. You think something’s wrong with Daddy?” she asks, words and face riddled with anxiety.

“I don’t know and that’s why I need to go see for myself. Let’s go.”

Daija grabs her phone and keys then follows me out of the office. When I see the doors are off her Wrangler, I make the decision to drive and we hop in my ride. We ride mutedly on the short trek to Mt. Calvary Church of God. Daddy’s Cadillac isn’t in the parking lot but thankfully, Daija volunteers to go inside to double check that he isn’t or if he even has been. God Himself would have to tell me to step foot inside before I do.

While watching her trek to the door, a speck of red catches my eye. Whatever it is was quick, almost a flash ,but my eyes did catch it. Curiosity and nervous energy compel me and I kill my engine and step out of my ride. I walk over to the passenger side and lean against it as I search for the moving red object. A small wind pushes through and then I see it. Coasting in the wind is a tiny red bird, probably a cardinal. For a reason I’m not quite sure why, I’m very intrigued so my eyes trace his flight and my feet fall in line. Seconds later, I’m walking along the side of the church.

Mt. Calvary has two parking lots, the main large one out front for the church and a small one for the private cemetery where my mother and other members of the church lay at rest. My dad’s Cadillac is in the last space in the small parking lot.He’s here, in the cemetery.

With each step I take toward my mom’s grave, a cocktail of emotions flood me and I notice a slight uptick in my heart beat and breaths. It’s been one hundred and five days since I was here. The day we left her here I knew it would be my last. Since I can remember, my parents instilled in me that graves were filled with nothing but memories. Upon death, if we lived a life pleasing to Our Father, we would be united with Him in heaven.

“Don’t look for me in the ground, I’ll be with My Father,” my mom would always say.

I held firmly to her words. Obviously, my dad isn’t. I spot his side profile. He’s sitting in a portable chair with what looks like a book in his lap. A large insulated cup is on the ground next to the metal legs of the chair. Because I don’t want to startle him, I call out to him as I approach.

“Daddy,” I say and his eyes lift from his book. When they land on me, he gives me a wry smile but doesn’t divert his eyes. He watches me until I’m by his side. Without saying anything else, I lean in, wrap my arms around him, hold onto him tightly.As we embrace, my eyes well with tears but I inhale slowly and deeply to keep them from falling.

When we end our embrace, I simply ease down onto the grass, bend my legs, and pull my knees as close as I can to my chest. After hugging my legs, I lean my head on my knees and turn my head to him. He closes his book and I recognize it; it’s his devotional Bible. His eyes are trained on the headstone and mine are focused on him.

“I’ve loved your momma since I was seventeen. When my family moved here and I saw her sitting on her porch, it was love. She ignored me for a few months but I won her over. We married three years later so for forty-one years of my life, I was blessed to be with my heart, my whole heart. I love you and Daija. I do but that’s different, a different kind of love.”

As he pours out his heart, my own aches for him and I can no longer inhale my tears. They flow steadily for the man who has always been larger and stronger than life to me. He’s hurting and truly missing my mom. The hurt, loss, and anguish in his voice is heart wrenching.

“Every day for those forty-one years, I woke up next to my heart. I built a life with her and no matter what went on with you girls, at the restaurant, or even at this church, my solace and heart was there for me and we talked. That didn’t just stop because God decided that He wanted His angel back in heaven. I can’t turn it off that fast. That takes time. I need time to adjust and deal with the loss of my heart. Our bodies aren’t supposed to function without the heart but by the grace of God, I am. I just need to come here sometimes and talk to my wife.”

His eyes break from the headstone and he shifts his body and chair to face me. He places his left hand on my knee then stares intently into my eyes.

“Trust me, sweetie. I’m fine. Well, as fine as I can be. I’m not living out here and I know your mother isn’t actually here butit gives me peace and a feeling of comfort to come out here and talk. My visits are less frequent now, and one day, I might not come at all, but right now I need this.”

He squeezes my knee as his eyes plead with me for something, likely understanding. But he doesn’t need to seek anything from me. I miss my mother too. We might have disagreed on a lot of things but my love for her never diminished. Never and it hurts every time I think about her not being here but I can’t imagine how he’s feeling. Their bond, connection, and love was amazing to witness and even harder to watch when it was broken. My heart hurts for him, and if this is what he needs, he can have it. My worry and anxiety have dissipated now that I know what he’s been doing and where he’s been.

“Please don’t worry about me, sweetie. I’m good.”

“I only worried because I didn’t know what was going on with you, Daddy. I understand now. Well, at least from my point of view, I get it. We all grieve in our own way and nobody can dictate it. Just do me a favor, talk to me more. Please.”

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