My Father : A Short Story

“Dad, can I go over to Ambers’ house to study tomorrow?” Our daughter Catherine asked the question, from about halfway up the stairs. Only her face could be seen as she peered at my husband hopefully, over the banister. I looked over at my husband, knowing what he would say, before he spoke. “Ask your mom.” My husband said to her, while glancing at me, expectantly. I smiled at him, knowing why he was telling her to ask me. He had worked all week, making the long drive from our home in Ashland to his office in Richmond and was hoping I would drive her to her friend’s house, so he could relax at home. My daughters’ hopeful gaze turned toward me, as well. “Madre?” She didn’t bother repeating the question. I hid the little sting of pain, that I always felt when she called me that, behind a smile. “What time are you supposed to be there, and do I need to bring you over and pick you up as well?” She nodded as she answered me. “Yeah, her mom can’t do it today, but I told her I would help her with her math.” Catherine had always made high marks in her school studies; it was something I was exceedingly proud of. “Yes, I’ll drive you, but make sure your phone is fully charged.” I have always been protective of the kids, and it was a long standing rule that they didn’t leave the house without a way to contact me. “I will.” She called out as she went the rest of the way up the stairs, disappearing from my view.

May 15, 2014 I hear my grandpa calling my name from my room upstairs. I walk down stairs and he tells me my dad’s had an accident. At this point I think my dad’s dead, because of how my grandpa word’s it, and my initial shock, but he’s alive. He was living in Virginia with my sister when it happened, so we leave for Virginia that night. We make it there the next afternoon and I finally get to see my dad. It was a challenge seeing a loved one with hundreds of tubes coming out of them, hearing that he might not make it through the night, and if he does he might not be able to see and so on. Seeing what at this point didn’t even really resemble my dad was very challenging.

I remember waking up that day and that feeling in my stomach, knowing what was about to happen. Growing up I knew about my father's sickness. My family, I recall, was always supportive. No one ever thinks about how one day, everyone you’re around for years, can just vanish. I cherished my friends as I was growing up. I lived there for a majority of my life, up until fourth grade. I remember sitting at a neighbor's house and having the mother come into the room and inform me that I need to be home swiftly. As I ran home, my head was crowded with thoughts to the point where I could not even think about why I was supposed to be home quickly. That day marked the transition of what would be the biggest change in my life. As by dad became sicker,

The relationship between father and son is like no other, commonly an unshakeable bond is formed between a man and his son. This is an ongoing cycle that shapes the next generation of men. In Hugh Garner’s short story “The Father” he tells the story of a relationship between a father and son that has been damaged due to being too preoccupied with the way people see the father. When people focus on priorities that revolve around themselves they risk damaging the relationships they have with the ones they care about because they are preoccupied with their image.

It happened when I was young. I was outside at my friend’s house sledding. We were taking a break when I got that phone call from my mom; she was crying. My sister was on her way to the emergency room. I started sprinting through the neighborhood towards my house. My dad was waiting with my brother in the car. My mom went with my sister in the ambulance. I was so scared that I was going to lose my sister. We got to the hospital and we were in the waiting room. It felt like days before we heard about her condition. My sister had pneumonia and mixed with her asthma she was having a hard time breathing. She had a severe attack and couldn’t breathe. If the crew from the ambulance didn’t show up the doctor said she wouldn’t have made it. I know

When dad dropped us off at the front door of the emergency room, mom and I knew that I would probably be in surgery that night. I remember my mom grabbing my arm and helping me painfully limp through the doors into the cold room. The emergency room was only packed with a few people. Given the situation I was in, I got called back as soon as we sat down in the uncomfortable green chairs.

I went into the hospital room with my mother, got undressed, and changed into a hospital gown. A woman came into the room to put an IV into my arm, then I turned on the Food Network on the hospital TV. A few doctors came into the room, asking for my name, birthdate, and other questions for identification purposes. Later, my two aunts came into the room. A few minutes later, my surgeon walked in as well to tell me that she’d come back in about twenty minutes to wheel me away to the operating table. This made it even more surreal and made me even more anxious.

We arrived at the hospital and went straight to her room. The sight shocked me to my core there were tubes and wires everywhere and the beeping of the machines filled the room. She wasn't fighting anymore. She was just laying there, she was so still it terrified me.

1. I packed only casual clothes for my trip. A pair of jeans, two T-shirts, and a sweater.

I had no idea where I was. Despite my blurred vision, I soon recognized the sound of an operating heart monitor machine. I tried to rub my eyes, but the wires connected to my arm restrained my movements. As I recovered my vision, I recognized the ICU room and my father standing beside me. He gently covered me, swallowed his tears, took a deep breath, and told me what had happened. While he was speaking, some moments of the incident gradually started coming to me, and it all began to make sense.

My grandfather was in his house, not feeling very well due to a battle with pneumonia. He was in the quiet home by himself as a result of my grandmother being gone and busy. It was a peaceful afternoon and a normal day for all of us. All of a sudden, WHAM! He was starting to experience extreme chest pain. This had caused him to call her.

When I was young my mother and my father both had very different opinions on how you should raise a child. And since my father was the one paying the bills and bringing home the paychecks for a few years, I didn’t really get to see him much because he worked all day. So my mother was the one who raised me for the most part. At the time she would spoil me like crazy. If I asked for something the answer would always be yes, and if I didn’t get my way I would start having a fit until she finally caved in. You could’ve called me a crybaby, go ahead I would’ve said the same thing. Because I was. My father’s best friend who had two twins both the same age as me invited me, my father and my mother over to there place for an easter egg hunt easter morning. During the easter egg hunt, me and my friend both turned a corner at the same time. He saw an egg and as he was going to grab it, I saw it and tried to get it also. He got there before me and I started to have a fit right there and then. I could remember my mother rushing up to see what’s wrong. After I told her what had happened she got me to stop crying and gave me extra candy. My dad knew that by her raising me like this I wouldn’t be able to get anywhere in life without someone being there whenever something went wrong, so he told her to take the candy back and to tell me to get over it and that not everything in life will be fair. She took that the wrong way and got mad at my dad for “not being a good parent” because didn’t

“Dad!? Where are you going?” I asked. “Oh nowhere son just stay home. I'll be back by one in the morning.Don't worry” He said.“Why do you do this to me dad? I said but it was too late. He shut the garage door and sped off into the dark night. I knew where he went. I knew what he did. He did this every night and it hasn't gotten us anywhere. He goes to the Casino 30 minutes away and gambles all of our money down the drain. My dad doesn't have a job so we can't pay rent for this cheap motel we live in and we are on our last strike. The manager says if we don't pay our bill in 7 days, they are kicking us out. I went to bed that night hungry, but I was used to it.

I sat their today like every other first sunday of the month still hoping that he might have believed me, still waiting for him to enter with open arms, still hoping to get out of this horrible dirty jail cell, and still praying to god that the ruling wouldn’t have churned out this way.

Hello. It is wonderful to see family, extended family, relatives, and friends who are here today for my Dad. Thank you all for coming. I haven’t yet come to terms with the fact that I will never have another conversation with him and I am sure some of you feel the same. Dad was born in 1927, and I think some of his admirable traits were apparent from an early age. He was a great dad to Linda, Steve, and I as we were growing up on Auburn St by the river.