Page 123 of Can't Kiss the Chef

He takes a moment–he acts like it’s to gather his thoughts but I know it is to catch his breath– before switching the topic of conversation.

“When’s your next game?”

“We have practice tonight and a game tomorrow against Dalton’s team. Then a little break for Christmas. I’m happy I’ll have more time to be here with you.”

“Byron,” he says earnestly. “Please don’t rush here to be with me.”

“I–” He cuts me off with a soft voice that still sounds so unnatural compared to the booming voice I remember from my scattered memories of our time together.

“Accept the help.”

He turns so he’s laying on his side facing me.

“If you’re not okay, tell them. If they ask you if you need anything, know that you can rely on them.”

A cough escapes from his lungs as he strains to get enough oxygen. The way his eyes stay locked on mine tell me he has more to say. So I sit and wait patiently trying to avoid realizing how close the end is.

“If I can teach you anything, let it be that pushing people out only leads to regrets. I’m so lucky to have had this time with you and your mom but knowing I missed out on so much, hurts. Be better than me, Son. Don’t run because you think it’s easier, I promise you it’s not.”

He pats my hand that is resting by his. He looks relieved like he has been waiting to give me that advice. I don’t want to talk about my other relationships. Right now the only one that matters is the one I have with him.

“I love you, Dad. Don’t regret anything. We had this time together and I wasn’t even sure if we’d have that. I’m happy I got to ask you everything I wanted to.”

“Byron, sweety,” Mom’s voice comes from just outside the door to the bedroom.

“Why don’t we give your dad time to rest. You have to get ready for practice.” She wears a soft smile, but her voice is sad.

I wrap her in a hug and feel her head lift off my shoulder giving her a straight line view of the only man she’s ever loved. Her chest rises and I feel her slack against me. I don’t need her experience in the medical field to know what she is thinking. We don’t have much time left with him.

“Go sit with him. I’ll be back with dinner after practice.”

After practice I pick up Jasper’s to bring back to the condo. Mom and I eat as Dad sleeps. Mom said he spent most of the day sleeping after I left.

I choose to stay over and sleep on the couch, even with knowing how important tomorrow’s rivalry game is for our conference standings.

I’m woken up to soft sobs coming from down the hall.

My dad passes in the night.

50

Byron

I’m struck at the relief I feel when I walk into the Riley Center knowing that this is where my dad would want me to be. The grief that’s been lurking since he passed at three o’clock this morning isn’t gone, but it’s been taken down to a volume where I feel like I can help the guys win today.

It hurts knowing that he left this earth just as everything started to feel normal with us. But, he is not suffering anymore and that gives me a sense of peace.

Coach’s door is propped open with a puck when I go to knock. I poke my head in to see him looking at his computer screen no doubt watching film from Hamiton’s game against Notre Dame last week.

His eyes soften when notices me in his doorway. Since my suspension, he’s known it’s only been a matter of time before I came to tell him this news.

His chair screeches across the concrete floor. It’s the only sound in the room. The man who has been a father figure to me for the last four years wraps me in a hug.

“I’m so sorry Byron.”

“It’s okay, I’m happy he’s not suffering anymore,” I say truthfully.

“Your teammates would understand if you choose not to play today.”

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