Not So Typical Spring Break

Written in CBC1.

Spring break, in my mind, was supposed to be like a mini-summer vacation. But, for me, spring break of 2009 was memorable, but far from the fun I would expect. As an only-hinted-at omen of sickness came crashing into reality, what should have been a fun-filled week of new adventures, friends, and memories quickly turned into a nightmare of visits with a funeral home, flower shop, and pastor.
    It was Thursday, the day my dad normally took me to school, but when the time arrived that he would normally pick me up, he was nowhere to be seen.  I called and called thinking maybe he had overslept, but I never got an answer.  Realizing that I needed to walk so I wouldn’t be late, I called one more time, again getting his voicemail.  This time I left a message letting him know what I planned to do.  Getting to school, I was pretty angry that I had to walk and risk being tardy, but as the day went on, I almost forgot the occurrences of the morning.  At the final bell, I didn’t see his truck waiting for me in the front of the school, so I called him several more times, still with no answer.  Worried, I called my grammy and asked her to run me by his house so we could check on him.  I couldn’t help but cry as I walked home, thinking about what every kid has nightmares about�"her parents dying before she’s graduated, gotten married or having a chance to grow up.  At home, while waiting on my grandmother, I stuffed my face with Easter candy trying to get rid of the awful thoughts crowding my mind.  
    On the way to my dad’s house, my grandma and I kept hoping and praying that we would not find his truck in the driveway because we knew that would probably mean the worst.  Wishing he had just forgotten to tell me he had an appointment or just forgotten me completely, we got to his house and saw his truck.  My grammy made me stay in the car while she attempted to unlock the door.  Failing to open it, she called the police and explained what was going on.  Almost immediately, an officer arrived, shortly followed by an ambulance and more officers.  Finally managing to open the door, the first policeman entered into the living room.  As the rest of the emergency personnel filed up the stairs and into the house, the first came back out and shook his head as if he were saying ‘He’s here, I found him’.   My grandma walked back to the car, seemingly preparing herself for something very difficult.  Getting closer, she shook her head ‘no’, but I was in such a state of shock that I didn’t understand what that meant.  She opened my door, and very quietly, with a shaky voice, said “He’s gone.”  I couldn’t comprehend the fact that my dad was no longer alive.
    The whole ride home, even though just a few minutes, was filled with tears and anger.  Mad at myself for being such a snob the last time we talked, I wished I could have seen him one more time and made sure he knew how much I loved him.  Approaching the house, we saw my mom standing outside waiting for us.  I jumped out of the car as soon as we came to a stop, ran into her arms, and let my tears soak her shoulder.  The rest of the day family and friends came by to see us.  Late that night, my brothers, Joe�"Andrew’s friend, and Jenny�"Seth’s fiancé, arrived in Pratt.   We wrapped our arms around each other, mourning our loss.  That terrible Thursday had been so long, that we were all just ready to try and get some rest for the long weekend we knew we had ahead of us.  
    Early Friday morning, we managed to get ourselves around and go visit the funeral home.  My dad’s sisters were waiting to talk to the funeral director with us.  After discussing what we wanted in the newspapers and how we wanted the service to go, we got the chance to go see him in the back room where they prep the bodies for burial. He still had the indentations from his breathing mask he was required to wear at night, and his mouth looked like it was still trying to breathe in air.  Seeing him lying there so lifeless was the most difficult thing I have ever had to do in my life.  After saying our final goodbyes, we went to find a casket.  We settled on the most gorgeous oak casket I’d ever laid my eyes on; it was perfect for my dad.  Done with everything at the funeral home, we walked across the street to the flower shop and picked out the flowers that would lie on top of his casket.  It didn’t take long before we decided on a beautiful arrangement consisting of white and blue flowers.  After that long morning, we were more than ready to call it a day.
    The next day, Saturday, was not an easy one because one of my great grandmother’s sisters had recently passed and we had to go to the funeral.  My brothers and I didn’t really know her, but knowing we would have to go through it again on Monday for someone much closer to our hearts, it was more difficult than most funerals.  
On Sunday, we didn’t go to church because we felt we just weren’t ready to face that many people at once, yet.  We visited with Tom Decker, the pastor we wanted to conduct the memorial service, later that day.  He’d been one of my dad’s close friends, his pastor, and someone he really looked up to, so asking him to perform the service was one of the easiest decisions we had to make.  We all gave our input as he asked what we wanted to share in the service about our dad.  Before long, he envisioned what kind of service we wanted, signaling the end of the meeting.
    Monday was the day of his funeral.  We had to wake up earlier than normal and get to the church.  First, was the flower service where we received many bouquets and plants.  We then waited in the basement of the church with the rest of the family until it was time for us to be seated.  As we walked in, I remember thinking ‘Not all of these people can be here for my dad’s funeral, can they?’  It was so surreal; the events of the past few days had still not sunk in.  We sat there as the pastor talked about my dad’s life and listened to the stories people told about him.  Immediately following the service, almost everyone stopped by us and gave us hugs and good wishes.  Once everyone had gone through, the family went back down to the basement to share a meal together.  After the meal, we made our way to McPherson because that is where my dad wished to be buried.  After that short service, we ate at Applebee’s and then headed home.
    The rest of the week of spring break seemed to follow this same gloomy pattern, unlike most students.  What I originally thought would be an amazing week away from school, turned into the nightmare we all hoped would never happen.