Page 149 of The Promise Of Rain
He stared back.
Unyielding.
But kind.
Oh, God.
One tear fell, quickly followed by another until they ran unheeded down my face.
The doctor led me to a chair inside Ansel’s room and sat down in front of me, a blur of muted greys.
“If it’s any consolation, he didn’t suffer.”
I raised watery eyes to his face.“I was visiting every day.How could I miss being with him?”
His face softened.“My guess is he wanted to spare you.So many of our loved ones do that, slip away when we’re not looking.”
I nodded, my voice thick.“He would do that.”
His hand hit my shoulder, and I immediately shrank away from his touch.
He stepped back and quietly offered his condolences.“I knew your father for a long time.He was a good man.I’m so sorry for your loss.If you have any questions at all, I’ll be down the hall.”
Oh, I had questions.
Like who would be in my corner no matter what?
How was I supposed to go on without him?
Who was going to eat my cookies and brownies and chicken noodle soup?
And why, oh why, hadn’t I gone to visit him yesterday instead of packing?
I had a sudden craving for sourdough bread slathered with strawberry jam.
Taking his cold hand in mine, I laid my forehead down on the edge of his bed and I pretended, I pretended so fucking hard, that he hadn’t just left me like everybody else.
29
Too Much
Istayedwithhimuntilthe funeral home came and took his body away.
Hannah and Abby, the nurses I was closest with, took my hands and led me down to a private sitting room.There they explained the arrangements and instructions Ansel left, which left me at a loss.
Because there was nothing for me to do.
I didn’t choose his casket or his resting place, the readings for the service or the church.
I didn’t get to pick the flowers.
He even prepared the obituary announcement and left it with Abby.She gave me the copy written in his own shaky hand, but I waited until I got home to read it.
Shedding my fleece and my running shoes, I headed straight for the shower.I tipped my head back and let the spray wash away my tears.
I toweled off, wound my damp hair up into a bun on top of my head, changed into sweats, and curled up in my reading chair.
Gathering my thick-knit blanket around me, I unfolded the piece of lined paper and traced the shape of his words with my finger.
