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Meghan
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Not going to lie, it took me a few minutes to re-adjust to driving. I stalled twice at a red light. Several cars honcked and swerved out of the lane to get around me. By the time I made it past the coffee shop, I’d found my bearings.
Not much had changed inside the vehicle. His lucky miniature football hung on the rear-view mirror. A couple coins were tucked in the back corner of the ashtray. The old hoodie he wore in so many of my pictures was folded on the back seat.
I switched on the radio, and the irony of Lee Brice left more tears falling. I’m not sure how, I’d thought I’d drained them all. I rolled the windows down and turned it up. I passed the stadium, and life became more surreal.
Dad’s jeep burned through a quarter of a tank in no time. That’s okay, being in his seat brought me closer to him.
Man, if he could see the wind blowing through my hair.
I had gone without him for so long, I don’t think I ever stopped to process the thought of living without him. I just changed myself, so he wasn’t a part of me anymore. That’s not how grief worked. I couldn't just write him out of my world. I had to move on with his love nestled in my heart. I had to let go and appreciate the time I was given with him.
But that meant, I had to let him go.
I had to move on.
No! I’m not ready.
I couldn’t.
I just want him back.
I felt his presence in the jeep, although I was alone. Being closer to him felt good. Until it didn’t.
The gears crunched when I shifted into park and yanked my keys out of the ignition. I hopped out as fast as I could.
Shit. I forgot the letter; I climbed back in.
As soon as I picked up the packages, the truck started rolling backwards.
That’s neutral... Not park!
I pulled the emergency break, and made sure I shifted all the way to the top right corner of the shaft.
“Hola, Chica,” Rosie greeted me with her chipper fucking attitude as soon as I walked in the door.
“Hey,” I barely got the word out without yelling. I rushed to my room, shut the door as quietly as I could, and leaned my back against the door. It wasn’t long before I slid my back down the door, closed my eyes, and curled up into a ball.
The urge to open the packages burned my fingers.
Was I ready to read it? Could I handle the emotional toll of opening the package? Being in the truck nearly destroyed me. What would the letter do?
Cautiously, I slid my finger down the slit to open the smaller envelope without causing any damage.
My dear Sweet Meghan,
If you’re reading this, it means two things. You’ve grown into a beautiful young woman and I’m not there to tell you how proud I am to call you my daughter.
Death is never truly expected. Not really. I have a feeling this was a major shock for you. Hah. I’d bet it was probably a shock for me, too.
I wish I could be there to comfort you and tell you I love you one more time. I’d wrap you in a bear hug and never let you go. There’s nothing in heaven that comes close to your laugh. The angels don’t have anything on you.
I want you to know, I lived my life to the fullest. I have no regrets, except for all the things I wanted to teach you. Looks like I ran out of time to show you how to throw a punch, or how to keep your anger from getting the best of you. How to make bacon extra crispy... You’ve never been good with baking or cooking. That’s your mother’s fault.
I’m sure this feels like the hardest time of your life. Unfortunately, it probably isn’t. Life is full of obstacles. It’s okay to get knocked down. Just remember to get back up.
There is a lot you’ve learned that will stay with you always. I’ve taught you to stand up for yourself, to be brave. And we have to talk about that wicked spin you put on your long-range passes. Girl, you throw better than any quarterback I’ve ever coached. Remember that time you made your first tackle? Poor, Chase. For a minute, I didn’t think he was going to be able to get up after your hit.
I’m not there to say it in person. So, I’ll tell you here...
I’m proud of you!
You brought more joy to me than anything else in my life, including football.
Hold your head high my beautiful girl. Don’t forget to remember the good and let go of the bad.
Love you always,
Dad
Aka: The One and Only Charles “Chuck” Foster, Coach, or Football Superstar.
PS: I hope all of your dreams come true and you follow your heart. I’m leaving my coaching bible to you. It has all of my secrets and tips for being the best resource to athletes. Football might not be in your future, but if it is, It would mean the world to me if you walked in my footsteps.
PPS: I love you more! I win!
That stinker! He got me! That was our little game. Every night we battled to see who loved who more. I always won. I guess he got the last laugh.
A tear ran down my cheek. I moved the letter away, so it didn’t get ruined from the moisture. I wiped my face and pulled it into my chest.
***
I’m not sure how long I sat on the floor before Rosie knocked. “Meghan? You okay in there?”
Darkness covered my windows. It was still sunny when I got home, so it must have been a few hours. I sniffled.
The door handle jiggled behind me. Rosie tried shoving the door open, but my back pressed against it.
“There’s something blocking your door. No me hagas derribar esta puerta. I’m not even playing, I will firefighter this shit down!” She knocked again.
I stood up and walked over to my bed. Rosie stormed into my room, but I ignored her. I climbed into bed and pulled the cover over my head.
“Mija, what happened?” She ran her fingers through my hair like a mom comforting a young child.
Instead of responding, I handed her Dad’s later.
She paused for a few minutes to read it.
“Oh. Meghan.” She wrapped me in a hug. “I’m so sorry.”
She held me as I cried, and cried and cried some more.
I sobbed until I fell asleep. With the morning sun, came more grief.
Parker: Hey you! It’s been a while! Want to catch a movie?
Parker: Hellloooo... It’s been an hour. Did you get my text?
Parker: I don’t think I’ve ever been ghosted before. It’s kind of a weird feeling.
Parker: YooHoo! Big summer blow-out at the local Dollar Gentral. Let’s hit it up!
I heard the pings. I checked the notifications but chose not to respond. I just didn’t feel like being social. Not with him. I didn’t leave the room when Rosie’s mom stopped by with Suzie. They peeked into the room, but they didn’t say anything.
Light came and left. The house stayed quiet.
I finally mustered the courage to open the second package—Dad’s coaching bible. I flipped through every page, letting my finger run down the handwritten words. This was something he held in his hand all the time. I’d watched him jot little notes at practice or late in the evening when he watched the games on tape.
Rosie popped in a few times to brush my hair out of my face or offer me some crackers.
The journal stayed close to me, the touch of something that was his packed just as much punch as the jeep or the letter.
I had a part of him. I gave myself time to grieve.
It wasn’t until day three, maybe four, she lost her patience. “That’s it. You need to eat. Mom spent all morning making Tamales with all the toppings. Get up. Eat. Go drive the jeep. You can’t stay in bed any longer.”
A new wave of sadness overcame me. “Not, yet.”
“Are you sure? We can go back to that restaurant where Olivia works,” She joked. Though, I’m certain if I said yes, please, we’d be in the car before I could dry my eyes.
“I need a little more time.” I tucked the comforter under my cheek. I wasn’t ready to decide to move on. Not, yet.
