Page 26 of The Choices I've Made
“Oh, yes. There was one visit, several years ago, when I came down with the flu. Awful fever and chills. Just my rotten luck, but your father made a special house call for me—visiting me in our guest room at the inn. Kind fellow, your dad.”
It wasn’t how I remembered him—at least, not the last few years—but I was relieved to hear he’d done his duty as a doctor, caring for those in town.
“So, you’re headed to the clinic, is that right?” he asked as we ventured across the open water toward the other side of Highway 12.
“Not right away. My…” I stumbled a bit. “My father’s funeral is today,” I explained.
“Ah, you’re right. My apologies, Jakey. You’ve had a rough go at it this week.”
I agreed, slowly nodding my head. “For all of us, I believe.”
“True, you are,” he replied. “Well, I wish you well. It’s no easy thing—saying good-bye to a parent. But I guess you already know that.”
I nodded, remembering the hollow ache I’d felt since the day we buried my mother. It had grown every day…until, finally, I couldn’t stand it.
So, I’d done the only thing I could.
I’d left.
There were very few things I’d prepared myself for when returning to my hometown.
The least of all? My father’s funeral.
I had known it was going to take place. I’d helped arrange the damn thing. Butknowingandseeingwere two entirely different words.
Driving up to the old church he’d faithfully served most of his life felt almost surreal. Having dressed in the cramped bathroom on the ferry so that I could avoid returning to my childhood home for a few hours, I couldn’t help but notice the sheer number of cars.
Mr. Lovell was right.
My father had indeed been a good man, a hero in fact.
To everyone but me.
He’d served these people well, making them part of his family as much as his own flesh and blood. They were the weak and helpless, begging for help when they couldn’t find any themselves.
And he had graciously granted it.
With a prescription for the flu or a splint for a sprain, he had been the saving grace on this island.
I only wished I’d felt the same about the old man.
Perhaps then, this wouldn’t be so hard.
My face was recognized almost instantly among the crowd as they quietly took their seats. I nodded and shook hands with many, making my way to the first pew saved for family members. As his only living relative, it was quite empty.
Just as well, I thought.
I was an outsider as much as any tourist now. Hell, even Mr. Lovell had more of a connection to this place than I did. The reverend who’d delivered my first communion and put up with me for two solid years of confirmation classes took his place at the pulpit. After he gave a solemn nod in my direction, the organ began its sorrowful medley.
I’d asked for a closed casket.
No one needed to see him like this.
Not even me.
It was a small favor I’d granted him in his death. To be remembered as he had been. I’d been informed he’d gone quietly with little pain or fanfare.
Cancer, they’d told me. He’d been living with it for years until, finally, it’d gotten the better of him. No doubt, he’d struggled until the very end.
