Dad Died

Dad Died

            The only people who were allowed to the after funeral diner were the people who actually showed up to the viewing and funeral. Between my brother and I there were about five of my dad’s close friends. He wasn’t a popular guy but he sure knew more people than the five who sat quietly around one of the circular tables. I had planned for at least ten tables.  That would come out of my pocket somehow. I didn’t care.

            “Hey, Mikie, do you remember that swing in the back of our old house?” I asked my brother who was cutting a dry steak.

            “No.”

            “You know. The tire swing that dad used to push us on? You have to remember. He would never push me longer than two minutes because you would be yelling about having your turn.”

            “No. I don’t remember.” He washed that terrible steak down with some terrible champagne.

            “Michael. The tire swing. You have to remember. It was right behind the house! Whenever it would rain a little puddle would be underneath it and we wouldn’t be able to swing on it until it dried up three days later!” I leaned over the table. “The tire swing… he would push me on it while I waited for the bus to pick me up in the morning.”

            “Alison, if you don’t stop carrying on about this tire swing I’m going to leave.” He was finished with his meal before I had the chance to even pick at mine. All of the other men were grabbing their coats from coat rack in the door way. I watched the servers pick up their plates and head to the kitchen. I never ended up finishing my meal. Hell, I didn’t even start it. I felt too crazy to even find the strength to pick up my fork.

            It was a nice day. The school kids were walking home and the high school sweethearts were holding hands and laughing. It reminded me of the time my boyfriend had cheated on me a week before prom and I was left alone with a hundred dollar dress, a forty dollar ticket, and a broken heart. He saw the two of them holding hands in the parking lot as we pulled away and watched for my reaction. I didn’t have one.

            He cried the entire way home. He told me that my boyfriend was an idiot to be doing that to me and he couldn’t believe that a girl like me could have been thrown away for someone so bland. He said if a girl like me even looked his way in high school he would drop dead. It was a quiet ride home.

            Flash forward to dad’s funeral day and I had finally reached the old house on Baker Street. There were two big shrubs that parted in the middle where there was a walk way. I parked in front and walked towards the front door. The paint was faded but it was still that baby blue I remember. There was a baby stroller on the front porch next to a doll house and a couple of pool toys. Not a single noise was heard on the street. Not even a gust of wind blew.

            I walked towards the back of the house and saw the old oak tree. There was some sort of shredding machine stationed next to it. They were going to cut down the tree that my grandfather had planted when my father was born.

            “Excuse me, ma’am? Can I help you with something?” A woman in a night gown walked toward me. She was young and beautiful.

            “Are you cutting down this tree here?

            “What? I…yes, why?”

            “This might sound strange but I was wondering if I could pay you for that branch right there.” I pointed to a branch that jutted out at one of the lower parts of the tree. The entire branch was a dark brown other than the small piece that was worn away by the rope that once held that tire swing. Underneath it was a small groove in the Earth. That was where my feet wore out the ground and the water would sit for days.

            “I’m sure I could… I mean if you’d like I can…” She looked at me strangely. If some random stranger dressed in black snuck around in my backyard and asked about a tree branch I would look at her the same way.

            “How much would you like for it?”

            “I don’t need your money for a tree branch. What I need is to ask my neighbor to cut it down.”

            “Do you have a hand saw in that shed over there?”

            “Why, yes I do.”

            Two hours later I was driving home with a long tree branch sticking out the two back windows of my car. I might have looked crazy but at least I didn’t feel it.