“Lindsey. My time has come and almost gone, but you still have miles to go. Live your life with me in your heart, not your mind. I love you.”
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When I was eleven years old, my father was diagnosed with lung cancer. He fought for three years, but eventually his life time of smoking caught up with him. Those were his last words, and they were directed at me.
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He then closed his eyes and waited for his life to end. The last thing I saw was a tear escape his eye, and a small smile show itself on his lips, before he was gone.
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My mother allowed us two weeks. Two weeks, for mourning. After that it was back to the regular house rules of no crying after the age of two, except for when it was completely accepted by everyone in the house hold (guests included). No burdening the family with petty emotional concerns, unless again, it was completely accepted by everyone in the house hold. And lastly no holding back your tongue. You did however, have to wait your turn to speak, otherwise you were sent to your room. It wasn’t exactly a punishment. My mother just believed that if you couldn’t wait your turn your thoughts hadn't completely processed yet, so you were sent to your room to think things out.
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The two weeks went by fast. We all cried, and shared stories about our father’s last moments. Mine was when dad used to tell stories before bedtime pipe in mouth, blowing smoke rings between paragraphs.
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Adrian, My older sister, told the story of when dad had lost her on the subway, while taking her out to the aquarium with some of his friends.
“ He only noticed I was gone half an our later!” she said laughing and crying at the same time.
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I remember thinking how strange emotions were, watching my sister tell her story. They came at odd times, sometimes a few at a time. I remember thinking they were inconsiderate and rude. I mean, they're like little kindergardeners, all screaming at once, wanting to be heard, creating a giant mess in your heart.
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My little brother told everyone the story of how every morning, dad would come into his room and carry him down the stairs into the kitchen. There my brother and him would make a peanut-butter- jelly sandwich, my brother spread the jelly and dad spread the peanut-butter, then they would cut it in half and eat it.
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Lastly my mom told the story of how they first met. They were both at the ice rink on two different dates, when they bumped into each other. Turned out they were both escaping their dates that had both took a wrong turn.
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“ Where did your’s go wrong?” my dad asked.
“ political views. yours?”
My mom laughed. “ religion differences.”
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That was the start of a twenty-five year relation ship, later to become a twenty-three year long marriage.
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The morning of the third week after Dad’d death, Everything went back to how it was… except for that everything was different, Everyone was different. There were less jokes at the table, and more heated discussions. My family would never fall apart, but it would never be the same again.
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The day I went back to school after two weeks of mourning was basically like any other school day. Conversations with the same people, just about a different subject. My teachers were a bit nicer, and everyone paid a bit more attention to me, but other than that, life went on.
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My first block of the day was science. I walked into the class, and sat in my usual spot. A couple minutes later Lilly, my best friend since grade school came in and sat down next to me. She gave me a hug, and started to say how sorry she was, but I cut her off.
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“ No. Two weeks are up, it’s time to move on.”
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Lilly looked at me, concern still in her eyes, but she dropped the subject.
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“ so what have I missed?” I asked, attempting to make small talk.
“ ummm… let’s see, Chelsea broke up with Brian, so now he’s going out with Mia and Chelsea is single for the first time this year. Last time I checked the count for guys who have asked her out was five, but it might have changed over the weekend.”
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Yup. Life went on.
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Although I never really took part in the gossip of Dromore secondary, I knew it all the same. Lisburn was a small town, and I both started and graduated with more or less the same people. Gossip travelled through the school like a tornado, it didn’t matter if you wanted to participate or not, you were sucked in either way.
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My place in the ‘social pyramid’ of Dromore Secondary School, was somewhere in the middle. I among few other people, could go up to anyone in the school, start a conversation and not even get a second glance. I could effortlessly stroll up to Chelsea Grace, (the most popular girl in the school) and strung up a conversation. I could also easily come up to, Loraine Kelsey, (the least popular person in the school) and she would talk to me freely as well. To some people, this ‘social pyramid' was the answer to life. They lived by it almost religiously. (Those people were usually on the top or bottom) I on the other hand, was the exact opposite. I didn’t then nor would I ever, believe in such crap. I think that was the reason I could go up and talk to anyone in the school, I didn't believe in the ‘social pyramid’ so it didn't restrain me from talking to whoever I wanted to talk to.
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“ Do you remember when we were in third grade, and chelsea told us that she would never like boys?” Lilly asked, smiling to her self.
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“ Yeah, she said they were ‘repulsive’ and that she would ‘die an old maiden’.” I laughed, recalling the memory as clear as glass.
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“ That was the day Brian asked her out on a date for the first time wasn't it?”
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I laughed again, “ yeah. Boy did he get shut down. Took him four years to recover before he asked her again.”
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We laughed for a while after that. I momentarily forgot about my father, then immediately felt guilty. His last words kept coming back to me.
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“ live your life with me in your heart, not your mind.”
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I thought about them constantly but I could never completely make sense of them.
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The bell rang interrupting my thoughts, signalling the start of class.
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The rest of the day was uneventful. People would come up to me in the halls, and say their ‘sorrys’. They’d tell me about how my dad was always one of the most popular drivers for school field trips back when we were in grade school, or how my dad always had the most interesting stories for ‘bring your parent to school day’. ( yes, sadly, that was a thing.) But mostly everyone just told my that they were sorry, and that they had missed me the last two weeks.
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The next few weeks were more or less the same. People kept apologizing for something that wasn't their fault, and I kept nodding and thanking them for virtually nothing. I could never really tell them what I was thinking while they rambled on, but it was always the same thing.
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Life goes on.
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