Page 3 of Wake Me Up
I don’t even try to come up with an excuse. I know it wouldn’t matter if I did.
Without pause, his hand squeezes mine lightly, and a few tears rolldown his cheeks. “It’s okay, T-Man. You’re a lot like me. I know you’ll come around in your own time.” He pulls in a raspy breath.
“There are so many things I wanted to teach you. So much shit I wanted to do with you that I never got the chance to because life came up. I always thought I’d have more time.” He stops as his breathing becomes more ragged.
“I did a lot of stuff in my life, son. Some good, some bad. Some stupid. But let me tell you, out of everything I’ve done, every mark I’ve made, I know my main purpose was to love your mama, you, and your sister.”
For the first time in my life, I hear my dad sniffle with sadness.
“Before your mom, I was a lost soul. Y’all made this life worth living. Y’all brought me to life and woke me up from the hell I had been walking through.” He stops, wiping his cheeks.
“All the small shit—the lessons I didn’t get to teach you, like how to drive, where to hunt, which part of the lake to fish … what I’m realizing is, that stuff doesn’t matter.” His head shakes back and forth faintly. “What matters is who you are. What you do for others. And thankfully for both of us, you have your mom—a damn saint—who’ll be by your side to remind you of that. Because of her, I know you’re going to be just fine. You and Pea both.”
He reaches for my face and cups my cheeks. “But I need you to listen to me. There is gonna come a time in your life, Tripp, when things get hard and you’ll feel like you’ve lost your way.” His voice grows weaker, and I know he’s losing his energy.
“Dad, you should rest—”
“No, dammit. I don’t have much longer left. I need to tell you this, so you’re going to listen.” He swallows, his lip trembling. “I’m not gonna be around to guide you through when that time comes. Whenallthe hard times come. Knowing that kills me, and I know it’s not fair. But I need you to promise me something … promise me you’ll remember everything your mama taught you. Whether it’s the fancy career I know you’ll be chasin’ one day or your future wife or maybe kids. Promise me that every huge decision you make, do it as the man I know you are inside. And speaking of careers, don’t chase money, Tripp. Money comes and goes. Chase the dream. Chase what will make you go from being alive to really, truly living. Passion, son. Find your passion that makes getting up every day easier.”
My cheeks are soaked, and my nose runs. Everything I’ve run so hard from to avoid feeling is catching up to me all at once. There’s no hiding from this. My old man—my hero, the man I consider Superman without a cape—is dying. And soon, I won’t have him to guide my every step. He’s right; my mom is a saint, but my dad has taught me more lessons than I could ever say.
“I promise, Dad,” I choke out.
A strained smile crosses his lips, and he bobs his head weakly. “Good, Tripp. Good.” He pulls his hand back from mine and points. “And if you are lucky enough to be loved by a woman who makes you want to be the best version of yourself, you make sure to never give her a reason to leave, you hear?”
I almost roll my eyes because, well, I’m eleven. And while there are a few older girls in my school who are pretty, I don’t have time for a dang girlfriend.
“Okay, Dad,” I utter, just wanting to make him happy.
“Good man,” he says, dragging in a shaky breath.
I know he’s getting sleepy, but before I can insist that he take a nap, my sister skips back into the room.
“Sorry, Daddy!” she says, sitting down at the end of his bed. “Mom made me help get supper started, and it took forever.” She grabs her book, looking from my dad to me. “Tripp, are you going to stay for the story too?”
“Uh …” I look into her big blue eyes, not wanting to hurt her feelings. “Pea, Dad might need to take a—”
“If you’re about to saynap, don’t you dare,” he says, cutting me off. “Go on, Pea. We were just getting to the good part of the book.”
My sister smiles but glances at me again, raising a curious brow.
Sighing, I nod. “Sure. Yeah. I’ll stay and listen.”
Her face lights up, and quickly, she flips back to where she ended before, and I try my best to relax back into the chair and enjoy this moment even though I’m scared for it to end. I’m scared because I don’t know how many others there will be, and if I could freeze time, just to keep him here longer with us, I would.
But that’s not how life works. And that’s why, sometimes … life really, really sucks.
Present Day
Ineed to get up. I’m a mom, and my kids are depending on me to get my ass out of this bed.
The thought is there. I’m fully aware that I need to stand up, walk downstairs, and tend to my kids, just like I do every day of my life. At least I did before everything changed.
Now, I stay in bed a little longer, and I cry into my dead husband’s pillow, asking God why he’d take away a man with three young kids. I ask what I did in a former life that would make me have to look at their sad faces every single day, over and over, knowing that they miss him so much.
My mom’s downstairs, picking up my slack, just like she has for the past ten days since I got the phone call that changed my life forever. The call telling me that Jamie—the love of my life, my husband, and the father to my three kids—had been in a car accident and was killed on impact.
I keep my cheek against his pillow, tears streaming down my face as my nose runs. You’d think I’d be all out of tears from doing this every night and every morning. Actually, anytime my kids can’t see me, this is what I do … I cry. I cry and I can’t stop.
