Uncle Harry and Aunt Rose, sorry to say we’ve got a bad situation here. Dad left us a few minutes ago. Priest arriving soon. Home later.
“Have you let Al know?” Rick asked Joy, who shook her head and pulled out her phone.
Al quickly replied: On a rescue. Will call soon. Love you. Joy put her phone in her pocket and looked up at Father Kinkaid, who’d entered the room.
The priest introduced himself, offered consolation to each family member, and stepped close to Dick’s body. After making the sign of the cross, he administered Last Rites, then stepped back and talked with Dorothy about funeral protocol.
“Tomorrow I’ll call Father McFarland,” Dorothy said, “and talk to the rest of the family about final details. My husband was quite adamant about being cremated…even more adamant about a Catholic service.”
After blessings and the priest’s departure, Rick kissed his father’s forehead and whispered, “We made it, Dad…you and me. We truly made it.”
Looking utterly forsaken, Rick and Joy lingered over Dick’s lifeless body until Dorothy pulled them close, put her arms around each, and led the way for their final, weepy departure.
At home with Dorothy and Joy, Rick texted Liv: Dad’s gone. Rough day.
Liv replied immediately: So sorry, Rick. Wish I could comfort you.
Rick tapped: Is that an invitation?
Liv answered: Yes, come over if you like. Anytime. I’ll keep the bed warm.
Rick replied: Thanks. Need that. Mom’s nuking leftovers for our little family of 3. See you in about an hour. XO
Rick had no sooner hit send when another text arrived: Sorry we couldn’t have been there with you. Rose and I insist you all come for dinner tomorrow, 5 o’clock. Chinese take-out. She’ll call your mom later. Much love.
Rick read Harry’s text to Dorothy and Joy, then said, “Liv also texted that she’d like to comfort me tonight. I’d like to let her do that…after we have supper. Right now, I need time around the table with my mom and sis…our shrunken little family.”
“Shrunken but solid,” Dorothy said. “I’m so glad you have Liv’s loving support at a time like this.” She then reminded Rick that he’d agreed to help her write a short obit for the newspapers.
“We’ll do that tomorrow, Mom. Promise. I’ll be home before noon.”
Joy looked at Rick. “You’re lucky to have Liv, and I’m lucky to have Al. He’ll come to my place after his shift.” Looking suddenly startled, she grasped her mother’s arm. “But there’ll be no one here for you, Mom,” she said, tears flooding her eyes.
“Please, don’t worry about me, honey,” Dorothy said, running her fingers through Joy’s bowed head of hair like she had done when her daughter was a child. “I’ll be okay. Phone me when you wake up tomorrow and come for breakfast. Al too if he can.”
Joy lifted her head and sighed. “Will do. But know this, Mom. In our heart of hearts, we’re all with you. You’re never really alone.”
With Liv’s warm body nestled against his, and vivid memories of his father’s astounding farewell, Rick felt wrapped in the arms of love. Just where I need to be, he thought. Never knew love could be this good. Never imagined it could be this good.
At home the next morning, after emailing his profs a request to defer his midterm exams, Rick and Dorothy drafted Dick’s obituary while Joy and Al searched for a photo to accompany the submission to local papers and the church bulletin.
Later that afternoon, en route to Harry and Rose’s, Dorothy passed Rick her Visa and asked him to stop at the liquor store for a bottle of white wine and a small brandy. “If ever we needed an elixir, it’s today.”
“Agreed, but the biggest elixir is family,” Rick said. “I’ve never been so grateful to have one.”
Over refreshments and appetizers at the kitchen bar, Dorothy described Dick’s final moments to Harry and Rose.
“Mom!” Joy said. “You left out Dad’s desperate attempt to tell Rick something before he died.” She opened the palm of her hand toward Rick.
Dorothy quickly replied. “Purposely did so. That marvellous ending is yours to tell, Ricky.”
Rick welcomed the gesture and relayed, in great detail, how convinced he was that his father struggled to say he loved him. “Just before coming here, I read a poem by Theodore Roethke, who wrote that in a dark time, the eye begins to see.” Rick looked directly at his uncle. “That was Dad. That was me.”
“So sorry I missed something memorable,” said Harry.
Dorothy looked at Harry and said plaintively, “Yes, in his dying moments, Dad and Ricky gave each other the redemptive power of love—such precious gifts. I’ll never forget their goodbyes.”
Bleary eyed, Harry folded and refolded the paper napkin in front of him. “Should that memory go in the eulogy, Rick, and have you thought about giving it?”
Rick turned and faced his uncle. “How about you doing the honours?”
“Rather not. You’re the writer in this family, but if you insist…and if you write it. Then again—”
“Let’s work on it together,” Rick said. “I’ll write it if you’ll edit it. We’ll decide later who delivers it.”
Harry agreed and suggested someone from the choir sing a solo tribute to Dick.
Dorothy’s eyes lit up. “Great idea, Harry. I’ll request ‘Ave Maria,’ his favourite hymn.”
Rick said, “And Mom, ask if the church choir will sing ‘How Great Thou Art.’ The congregation could join in and I’ll belt it out—loud enough for Dad to hear.” Rick raised his hands to the ceiling. “I can see it all now, him smiling down on us…even though I’ll be off key.”
Appreciative laughter eased family tensions, but it wasn’t long before Rick felt a chill sweep over him, as if the kitchen had become a dark, dank morgue.
Harry must have sensed his nephew’s sombre struggle. “You could add some humour to the eulogy by telling the story of how your dad, when he reached adolescence, decided he wanted to be called Richard, but in our little town, everyone knew him as Dick, so he toughed it out. Johnny Cash’s ‘A Boy Named Sue’ was his favourite song.”
Rick chuckled, then sat back and thought about the story behind his own name and how, after years of calling him Ricky, his uncle was now comfortable honouring his nephew’s request that everyone call him Rick. Hope others notice. Rick suddenly noticed that, unlike a week ago, when tension hovered over Harry and Rose’s dinner table, he felt a comforting togetherness as the family moved to the dining room and relished a broad selection of Chinese food.
Deep in thought, Joy studied the beautiful floral arrangement on the buffet. “Have any of you noticed how summer flowers change to a deep, vibrant hue at sundown…like a beautiful prayer to end the day? Dad’s final moments were like those flowers.”
“Jesus, Joy,” Rick exclaimed, immediately regretting his blasphemy. “Apologies for swearing, but what a metaphor! You should write the eulogy.”
Joy forced a laugh and shook her head at such an idea. “It came out of nowhere, just like your brilliant idea that I write the eulogy. Not a chance.”
“Here’s another thought,” Harry said. “Unless Dick told you where he’d like his ashes spread, how about scattering them at the Bird Sanctuary? Songbirds will serenade us when we visit him, and Rose, you can name all the wildflowers fertilized by Dick Wright.”
“Great idea, Uncle Harry!” Rick said, chuckling. “Dad’s grave new world.”
Rose giggled. “Dick will fertilize the trees that house the birds…and all the flowers that bloom in spring.”
“In vibrant colours at twilight,” Joy added, laughing, as if to give permission for levity. Everyone joined in wholeheartedly, except Dorothy, who looked serenely bemused.
After a shot of brandy and sweets from the dessert tray, Joy reached over and squeezed Dorothy’s hand. “You can hardly keep your eyes open, Mom.”
“Yes, but I’m loving your comic relief.” Dorothy rubbed her eyes and tried to stifle a yawn. “I like the idea of spreading Dick’s ashes at the Bird Sanctuary.”
“Since the eulogy is now on me, I’ll start writing it tonight,” Rick said, hoping his comment would hasten the end of a necessary but pleasantly exhausting evening.
Which it did.
Dorothy pushed her chair back from the table. “Please, let me cook dinner for a change…day after tomorrow. Nothing fancy, just a simple meal that will occupy my mind until the funeral.”
Rose winked at Joy, then turned to Dorothy. “I’ll bring a Greek salad—if not for dinner, for your lunch next day.”
Joy said. “And I’ll bring Dad’s favourite brandied sweet potatoes with roasted pecans.”
Warm thanks and hugs soon followed, and when Dorothy, Rick, Joy, and Al stepped into the brisk evening air, Rick looked up at a faint canopy of twinkling stars. “Tonight is unusually quiet. Someone must’ve grabbed the remote and put the city on mute.”
“Good one,” Al said, looking back at Rick, who was checking an incoming text.
Rick nudged Dorothy. “Hey, Mom! A message from Liv.” Rick scanned it again, then stepped into the car and read it aloud.
Thinking of you always! Team went all out today. Can I help you wish anything? XO!
Dorothy raised her eyebrows and looked over at Rick. “Wish anything? A typo?”
“Unlikely. The letters s and t aren’t close enough for a typo. Freudian slip, me thinks.”
Rick quickly replied: Thanks Liv! There’s lots you can help me ‘wish.’ Wish for many nights of bliss together. Will phone tomorrow.
At 10:30 p.m., with heavy heart, Rick began his eulogy. To his disbelief, and great relief, words effortlessly energized him well into the night.
Thank you for coming to say goodbye to my father, Dick Wright, a man who was dedicated to his family and the company he and his brother, Harry, started some thirty years ago. Dad considered his employees family, and I’m sure he’d want me to thank those of you who are here today, not only for paying your respects, but for helping Wright Brothers become a successful business venture.
I’d like to tell a brief, largely untold story of Dick Wright’s life. Unfortunately, when Dad was twelve years old, his mother, Molly Wright, died from a prolonged illness. Shortly after, Dad and Uncle Harry joined a small group of teens for Bible Study…and thanked the Lord for the hearty lunches that followed. No doubt Dad also thanked the Lord for his athletic prowess at the hockey rink and on the football field, where he excelled throughout adolescence.
Sadly, it wasn’t long after their mother died that Uncle Harry and Dad were hit with another tragedy—they lost their father. Grandpa Wright was killed instantly in a head-on collision with a semi-tractor trailer, leaving Dad and Uncle Harry orphaned at eighteen and sixteen.
After high-school graduation, Dad landed a job with an established home construction firm. A hardworking employee who never shirked extra duties, he was soon promoted to an assistant managerial position that gave him broad experience in the construction industry. The following year, after Uncle Harry graduated, Dad was instrumental in getting him a job with a new company that specialized in building condos.
Grandpa Wright’s friend Ben gave Dad and Uncle Harry financial guidance such that after saving two years of their salaries and investing money from their inheritance and the sale of the family home, they had enough to finance a move to Calgary—the little city on the Bow with a view of the Rockies, as Dad once described it. With excellent references, he was soon hired by a large construction corporation that offered good opportunities for advancement. Meanwhile, Uncle Harry earned a Business Administration diploma, and with Ben as their venture capitalist, Dad and Uncle Harry started their own construction firm, and hired qualified, loyal personnel—loyal because their employment packages outperform those of competing firms.
Rick visualized coworkers nodding in agreement as he faced the side room and swept an open arm toward his mother.
One such loyal employee was my mother, Dorothy Wright, who Dad hired for her proficiency in word processing and spread sheets. But Dad saw much more than that in Mom. A year later he proposed, and fourteen months after their wedding, Mom replaced Excel spread sheets with crib-sized bed sheets and developed unique word processing skills to process baby babble—mine. Twenty months later, my sister, Little Miss Joyful, came into the world—so named, Dad said, because as a tiny infant, she smiled profusely and adorably at the sight of any human face.
Rick pictured Joy, crestfallen in a torrent of tears. His own were close to the surface.
Thanks to you, Dad, despite extreme childhood adversity, your optimism and dedication to hard work helped make Wright Brothers a respected, well-established business. I hope to emulate your courage in the face of hardship, your dedication to family, and the unwavering self-confidence that helped you succeed at whatever you put your mind to.
Thank you for working so hard to give so much to all of us. We will remember you.
We love you.
Rick walked to the window and looked deep into the darkness until the scent of a strong, courageous ending enveloped him.
I love you, Dad.
After validating the final draft with tears, Rick stood in front of his full-length bedroom mirror and recited what he’d written until he got the inflection right. He flopped on his bed and deeply regretted that he hadn’t known earlier and thought deeper about the wreckage in his father’s family. Such knowledge, Rick hoped, would help him read the eulogy without choking on his words. Dad’s poor, wounded heart…and my cursed, unpredictable emotions.
When Rick awoke late the next morning, he pulled the duvet over his head as if to hide from looming, crushing obligations. Over the next two days, he needed to polish his eulogy and read it to the family, brace himself for the funeral and reception, deliver the eulogy with composure and compassion, then drive to Liv’s campaign headquarters and anxiously await election results. If I can make it through all that with dignity and diplomacy, I can make it through anything.
That afternoon, Liv arrived with a large bouquet of yellow roses that Dorothy graciously accepted and nestled among the other floral arrangements, most of which were from Dick’s employees. She briefly chatted with Liv before opening the door to downstairs and shouting, “Ricky, Liv’s here.”
“Be right up!” Rick hollered, then quickly brushed his teeth and combed his thick, wavy hair that Liv once described as “a bumper crop you always cut too short.”
Dorothy made tea and as Rick laced his fingers between Liv’s, the three of them talked about the flowers, the funeral arrangements, and the closing days of Liv’s election campaign.
Rick watched Liv take her last sip of tea, then looked at his mom and said, “Sorry to interrupt our nice visit, but would you please excuse us.”
The moment they stepped inside his suite, Rick reached under Liv’s sweater and ran his fingers over her cool, satiny skin. “You’re so thoughtful, Liv. With E-day closing in, you must be juggling chainsaws, yet you’ve found time to bring us flowers.”
Together on the love seat, Rick put his arm around Liv as she leaned into him and said, “I hope you and I can celebrate…or commiserate after all the votes are tallied. Mom, Dad, and Zeke are arriving soon to help tidy the office and prepare for the election party—win or lose. Zeke has to work the next day, so they’ll leave for Edmonton as soon as there’s a projected winner. Do you think you’ll feel like joining us at some point after the funeral?”
Rick said, “On election day, I’ll vote for you, and in the evening, l vote we celebrate each other…and your win.”
“Wonderful! I want us to be together then,” Liv said, nestling deeper into Rick. “How did it end for your father? Were you able to say goodbye?”
“After Dad’s heart attack, a heavy, moral responsibility weighed on my conscience. The time had come to tell him that I regretted all the times I’ve vehemently argued with him; all the times I’ve pushed him away. Then I said those two important words: I’m sorry.”
“You must’ve touched him deeply.”
“Dad’s eyes never rested so comfortably in their sockets. He looked at me and thanked me for apologizing. Sincerely thanked me!” Rick talked about his father’s apology and gratitude for a second chance to be a better husband and father. “I was shocked, but thankful for the possibility that a respectful relationship might be within reach.”
Liv smiled tenderly as she looked up at Rick. “I wish I could’ve met him, but then came the stroke.”
Rick nodded and told Liv about his father’s dying moments. “I watched Dad’s life drain away in that godforsaken hospital bed and thought about all the years I’ve been chasing a dream. Didn’t have the guts to tell him what was buried deep within until finally, on the day that proved his last, I put my face next to his ear.” Rick paused, as if tongue-tied. “That’s when I told Dad I loved him. To my utter amazement, he tried to tell me the same.”
The two quietly cuddled until a satisfying thought crossed Rick’s mind. “If I hadn’t told Dad I loved him, he never would’ve been dead and buried. We’d both be roaming through my dreams, waiting endlessly for apologies. Instead, as Dad’s life ended, something beautiful began—respect and love for each other. Redemption.”
Liv sighed. “Ah, redemption. Now that you’ve both said what went unsaid for so many years, are you at peace?”
“A strange kind of peace. Even though Dad’s gone, he’s with me more than ever. Did it take dying for me to see all of him? To love him? Does death exaggerate one’s virtues? Sanitize the memories? Does that even make sense?”
“Does it matter? You’re both free now.”
“Yeah, but death robbed us of the chance to prove our love. I’ll never know how things might’ve been.”
Liv looked as if she were seeing Rick anew. “The ending…so special. I forget who famously said that those who think deeply can love deeply.”
Rick thought deeply. “Last night, after a family dinner, Uncle Harry and Mom reminisced about Dad…shattered my hardened view of him. All my life I’ve wanted him to not be him, and he wanted me to not be me. Therapy has proven the futility of such childish demanding. Helped execute the old me—the one I’ve put to rest with Dad.”
Liv’s fingers rode in and out, up and down between Rick’s. “In two months, I’ve learned so much about you. I don’t have the words, but I love how close I feel to you at this moment.”
Rick’s smile was almost too big for his face and it occurred to him that neither he nor Liv was ready to say those three powerful words.
Liv stood and stretched. “I hate to end this beautiful time together, but please know that now, especially now, you’re always in my thoughts. When things slow down, I hope we can grab our skis and head for the slopes.”
“Yes, my dear. Can’t wait.”
Upstairs, Liv hugged Dorothy and Marg, who had dropped in for tea. “You’ve made a real contribution to my campaign, both of you,” Liv said. “If I win, it’ll be because of efforts like yours. Thanks so very much.”
Dorothy said, “I’ll check the election results and leap to my feet when I hear you’ve won.”
Liv beamed. “It’s nice to know we’ll all be thinking of each other on such an important day. I plan to attend Mr. Wright’s service, but I hope you’ll understand if I sneak away as soon as it’s over.”
Rick walked Liv to the front door, kissed her, and held her close. “Mmm,” she murmured, evocatively. “Good luck with the eulogy.”
“And good luck with the erection,” Rick said, then fiercely shook his head and laughed uninhibited. Relieved by the unintended humour, Liv laughed along with him and said, “I’ll vote for that tomorrow night.”
As he passed through the living room, Rick noticed the edge of a note tucked into a large bouquet of fresh flowers. Curious, he read the message.
Dorothy dearest, I’m thinking of you morning, noon, and night.
Abiding love,
Efner
Rick felt his stomach tighten. Glad for Mom, sad for Dad. He walked into the kitchen where Dorothy and Marg sat talking about tomorrow’s dinner menu. “Later,” he said, patting his mother’s arm and marching to the downstairs door.
At his desk, Rick reread the final draft of his eulogy before grappling with another heavy obligation.
Dear Dr. Grey,
Please accept my sincere apologies for not terminating therapy in person. Emails are a cowardly way to end relationships, but I’m not up to struggling through another goodbye.
Dad had a fatal stroke and I’m delivering the eulogy tomorrow. Before he died, I told him I loved him, and in his final moments he tried valiantly to tell me the same. You enabled our loving reconciliation and for that, I’m sincerely grateful. Recently, I’ve spent more time trying to understand Dad and less time judging him. I’m also more aware of my demanding, unreasonable beliefs that trigger inappropriate emotions and behaviours. I believe that without your helpful guidance, Dad and I wouldn’t have reconciled, and Liv and I would be lost to each other. Today, our love blossoms.
Without knowing it at the time, The Incident was a threatening opportunity for therapy and self-discovery. You’ve shown me how I disguise my fears—fears that damaged past relationships, especially Dad’s and mine. With you, I also felt deeply heard. Hopefully, I’ve learned to be a better listener. I remember your apology for being too teachy, something I never felt. Loved, in fact.
Dr. Knowles, my psychology professor, has been teaching me about dogmatism, and I now see that Dad and I were racing to the finish line of the dogmatism derby—he, driven by a search for respect and dignity, me, driven by a need to prove that I’m smarter than everyone else. If I were so smart, there’d be no need to arrogantly prove it. I’m confident I won’t go back to that which I now have a name for. That which still tempts me.
What I do in life counts, but who I am counts more.
You’ve made me think.
With gratitude,
Rick Wright
Dorothy and Marg spent the better part of the next day making dinner for Harry, Rose, Joy, Al, and Rick—beef tenderloin with mounds of sautéed onions and mushrooms braised in beer, bay leaves and garlic, homemade dinner rolls, and Dick’s favourite dessert, flapper pie.
In the dining room that night, Dorothy took her usual place at the end of the table, then stumbled through a tearful grace that acknowledged Dick’s absence in the empty chair across from her. Rick gave a toast of thanks to his mother, and people enjoyed a quiet meal as if they’d said all they needed over the last two weeks. During dessert, Rick put his fork down, swallowed hard and said, “So I’ve been thinking, maybe we get wiser and more courageous near the end. Pity it takes so long.”
“Rick, you’re exceptionally wise at twenty-eight,” Harry said, with a hard wink.
Rick smiled and reached for a folder on the side table. “Uncle Harry, I’ve decided to give the eulogy during the reception. Writing it was less daunting than I’d anticipated. I’d like to read it now and have all of you suggest changes.”
Everyone agreed and listened closely as Rick read the opening paragraph, after which, for the first time in front of others, Dorothy wept openly. The family gave heartfelt support, then waited solemnly until Rick resumed reading his tribute. When he ended with, “I love you, Dad,” Harry’s eyes glistened.
“Perfect eulogy, Rick. Your way with words…you’ve clearly chosen a mighty good career path,” Harry said.
Dorothy gave a proud smile of approval and glanced across the table at Joy, mopping her face with the sleeve of her sweater.
“It’s great, Ricky. Keep every word,” Joy said, blinking rapidly.
The family discussed arrangements for a small gathering of mourners at the house after the funeral. When voices became strained, Joy seized and eased the moment. “I’m so glad we’ve been able to spend precious time together to talk about Dad and plan our final goodbye. Thanks for Dad’s honorary dinner, Mom, and thanks to you too, Uncle Harry and Aunt Rose, for taking such good care of us through everything. Let me help clear the table, then we…” With pleading puppy-dog eyes, she looked over at Rick and said, “On second thought, will you please help tidy up? I’m as dragged out as our dear mother.”
With that, everyone looked content to call it a day. As Rick scrubbed the roaster, Dorothy dealt with the few leftovers and lamented, “I truly regret what I told you about Efner and me. Should have had the decency not to burden you with it, especially that unforgiveable alley scene.”
“Sorry you feel that way, Mom. I’m thinking Efner’s love is especially helpful now.” Dad’s death has accomplished what divorce might otherwise have, Rick thought, wiping clean the countertop.
Dorothy lowered her head. “This is a time to remember Dad. After thirty years, I owe it to him to do just that.” She looked deep into her son’s eyes. “But you’re right. My family’s love, along with Efner’s, is immensely comforting.”
“Love will help us sleep tonight,” Rick said, helping load the dishwasher.
Dorothy looked near collapse as she propped herself against the kitchen counter. “Love and exhaustion, my best friends right now.”
Rick felt his phone’s alert as he descended the stairs.
Hello Rick,
Thank you for your thoughtful message and the informative chart on dogmatism. It’s given me much to think about.
Clients seldom know the impact they have on therapists. Of the many people I’ve worked with over the years, none will be more memorable than you—you who had the courage to look at who you are and who you are not, then do the hard work of becoming who you’d rather be.
Best wishes for your relationship with Liv and all future endeavours, including that bestseller you’ll write. I look forward to reading it!
Marion Grey
As people arrived to give their last goodbyes to Dick Wright, directionally confused snowflakes wafted about in the cold, dreary stillness of another wintry day. Funeral hymns played in the background, and lightly scented candles welcomed mourners as they signed the guest book and thoughtfully paused in front of an attractive photo of Dick, taken in his late forties.
The Wright family was seated behind a heavily curtained side room reserved for relatives of the deceased. Rick peeked out and saw a long-term employee of Wright Brothers urging people to sit near the front instead of scattering themselves throughout a room too large for the number of guests, about thirty in all. Some were current or former employees of Wright Brothers or corporate suppliers; others were members of the church congregation or hospice volunteers, including Efner. Five campaign workers had arrived to support Rick: Liv, John, Gabe, Brittany, and Edna.
“We’ve gathered today to remember Richard Wagner Wright,” Father McFarland said, “a man faithfully devoted to God, church and family.” He acknowledged Dick’s immediate relatives, including the deceased, then read from scripture.
Rick nudged Joy, who was drowning in a puddle of tears, and whispered, “Imagine Dad smiling down on his Little Miss Joyful,” a comment that offered little consolation.
One of Dorothy’s church acquaintances sang an operatic rendition of Ave Maria, followed by prayers and traditional hymns. With newfound strength, Joy leaned against Rick and said, “I’m sure Dad heard it all, looking down from the firmament.”
With a glint in his eyes, Rick said unabashedly, “Wait ’til he hears my eulogy.”
Dorothy had remained resolute throughout the service and as she and the family joined guests for the church’s customary refreshments, Rick took his place at the small podium. He winked at Gabe and Brittany, and to his utter delight, caught sight of Liv standing along the back wall. With a wink and broad smile, she turned his uneasy voice to silk.
When Rick gulped down the last four words of his eulogy, Harry strolled up to the podium, blurry eyed and open armed. “Your dad would’ve hung on every word. We’re all so proud of you.”
Rick glanced at Liv, who threw him a kiss and mouthed ‘later’, then slipped out the door.
“I hope you’ll excuse me,” Rick said, after visiting briefly with a small gathering of family, Marg, two hospice workers, and long-time employees who’d come to the house following the reception. “Election results will soon be rolling in and I’d like to join Liv Janson at campaign headquarters. He winked at his mother and added, “As some of you may know, she’s my girlfriend…and future premier of the province.”
Dorothy said, “We understand, Ricky. You need to be with her.”
“And Joy,” Rick said. “We need lunch or coffee soon—in a couple days.” He hugged her and quietly asked, “Are you alright?”
Joy lowered her head. “Like everyone who loses a parent, I’ll have my tearful times, but I’ll carry on. Dad would want that.”
As he backed onto the street, Rick saw Efner walking toward the house. He lowered the car window and shouted, “Nice to see you, Efner. I’m off to watch Liv’s election results.”
Efner punched the air and shouted, “Here’s to a Janson victory!”
At campaign headquarters, excited optimism filled the air when the first poll results flashed across a rented, 60-inch TV screen. Conservative Ron Mallore had a slight lead.
Liv caught sight of Rick and went straight to him. “Gather me in. This is a close one. Might need a little sheltering tonight,” she said, with the seriousness of a supreme court judge.
“I’m here for you, no matter what. To me, you’ll always be a winner.” Rick felt strong. Needed. He wanted to hold her forever.
Momentarily, new poll results flashed across the screen as people burst into triumphant shouts and applause. With several outstanding polls to report, the count marginally favoured Liv over the other two candidates. “Mallore’s now trailing Janson by four percent,” the TV reporter announced.
All smiles and glossy-eyed, Liv hurried back to her family’s side as Rick caught sight of Noah standing near the back door.
“Hey, Noah,” Rick shouted, sprinting toward him. “Looks like this one’s too close to call. Can I get you a drink?”
Noah dug his hands deep into his pant pockets. “I’m good, thanks. Thought I’d swing by on my way to a friend’s election party. Liv’s got this one in the bag.”
Rick looked over at John. “Wonder how we did last election on the remaining polls.”
Noah’s strained smile signalled the end of chit chat. “Don’t know, Rick. I’ll wish Liv the best and be on my way.”
Rick felt good about acknowledging Noah as he watched John crane his neck at the numbers on his computer. “What’s your best guess on the outstanding polls?”
John gave a long, slow sigh. “Most of them had strong Conservative support last time around. I’m worried. Things could change rapidly.”
As poll results dribbled in, people chatted excitedly about various scenarios until a string of final results from all but three constituencies covered the screen. A news reporter started summarizing the total votes, then stopped. “Breaking news,” he said. “The CBC has just declared Ron Mallore the projected winner for Mount Vista. Not a resounding victory, but one that likely won’t warrant a recount.”
Oxygen left the room.
Barring a serious irregularity, family, friends, and volunteers knew Liv couldn’t possibly gain enough votes to tie, much less win. Looks like a turtle that’s just lost its shell. Rick edged his way to the front of the room.
Liv stepped up to a makeshift platform and scanned her supporters’ dejected faces. “My friends,” she stammered. Everyone broke into applause as if sensing she needed time to regain her composure. Liv looked at Rick’s adoring eyes and continued. “Your support has meant more than words can convey. We gave it our all, but it wasn’t quite enough…this time.”
“We’ll be ready,” shouted John from a side wall. Fists pumped the air, and overlapping shouts of “Janson in four” gave Liv all she needed to keep going.
“Each of you, in your own way, donated far beyond what I dreamed possible. I won’t single out anyone for special thanks, except my family, here from Edmonton. To my Mom, Lavonne Janson, my Dad, Gunnar Janson, and my brother, Zeke, your loving support has never faltered. I love you so.” Liv stepped back and beckoned the family to join her.
Gunnar, seeing tears in his daughter’s eyes, took the microphone. “It’s been a pleasure meeting and working with each one of you. We’ll be back for the next election. By then, given Mallore’s age, he likely won’t be the incumbent, but there will be a return candidate with renewed energy, commitment, and campaign experience.” Gunnar put his arm around Liv. “You, Liv Janson, are the grit in integrity.
Amid raucous applause, Rick trembled as a torrent of loss plunged him into a threatening vertigo. Dreading a repeat panic attack, he slipped out the back door while his legs could still carry him and sprinted to his car where he curled up in the back seat and buried his face in his arms. Shielded by the comforting darkness and the ghost of a loving father, Rick mourned three deaths—his dad’s, a potentially loving father-son relationship, and Liv’s election loss.
Inside campaign headquarters, Liv frantically gasped as she leaned into Zeke. “Where’s Rick?”
Still crumpled up in the back seat, Rick was asking a different question: Where’s Dad? Where are you, Dad? Heartsick and emotionally drained, he remained there until he pulled himself together enough to drive home and trample a few more fibers in his living room carpet. Accept life as it is, he told himself—beautiful despite the finality, the banality, the brutality.
He texted Liv: Sorry Liv, was overwhelmed with grief. Please come over when you can. Take sidewalk to back door. It’s unlocked. XO
Rick occupied himself with haphazard tidying as he listened to the discouraging TV coverage of final election results. When a reporter interviewed Liv, he marvelled at her diplomatic composure, then let his mind raggedly wander. Dad would want me to be strong. Philosophers claim free will’s a delusion. Fuck it. Have Joy and Al left? Where’s Mom? He went upstairs, tapped on the kitchen door, and opened it. Lights that were on when he drove into the driveway were now off, and Rick assumed that his mom had gone to bed—with or without Efner. Likely without.
At campaign headquarters, Liv and volunteers divvied up what food and drink remained. “I’ll throw a thank-you party to celebrate our great team,” Liv said. “A clean-up crew is coming tomorrow, and so, to all of you…we’re done!” A few colleagues invited her to debrief at a nearby bar, but she graciously declined, saying that she’d planned to be with Rick, “who’s having a tough time with the loss of his father.” Volunteers readily understood since, by the last week of the campaign, it was no secret that Rick and Liv had strong feelings for each other.
Brittany and Gabe were the last volunteers to leave. Liv watched with fascination as they stepped out onto the sidewalk and Gabe reached for Brittany’s hand.
Liv reached for her phone. Okay Rick, let’s get on with that real celebration. On my way.
Rick took Liv’s coat, picked her up, and kissed her long and hard, then let her body erotically slide down his. She took his face in her hands and peered into his very soul.
“The strength of your support when you said, ‘I’m here for you’ was…” Liv stalled. Blinking away tears, she continued. “Without that echo, I would’ve been a mess in front of everyone.”
Rick squeezed her hand. “Can I get you something to drink—tea, coffee, a beer?”
“Just you,” Liv said. “You’re all I want. Naked under the covers.”
Classical romantic music softly filled the room as Rick lifted Liv and carried her to his bed. Together, they caressed their vanquished bodies and spirit.
“Liv, my dear one, courage, honesty, and hard work…you ran a superb campaign against a tough competitor.”
“But Rick, I’ve let everyone down, everyone who worked so hard for me. That hurts. Really hurts. Loss….” Liv buried her face in the warm crook of Rick’s neck and sobbed.
“Mm-hmm,” Rick softly murmured, then let the presence of love cushion his sorrow. How many people in this world feel what I’m feeling now? His heart swelled as he stroked Liv’s shoulder. In a voice clear and mellow, he said, “No loss will eclipse my love for you, Liv. A lifetime together wouldn’t be enough.”
Liv’s sobs dwindled to sniffles. Looking fondly into Rick’s eyes, she replied, “I feel your love…a safe place for sorrow. I haven’t lost anything, Rick.” She held his penetrating gaze and tweaked his nose with hers. “I love you, too…and this story isn’t over.”
Rick broke into an enormous, radiant smile. “How’s this for a title to our never-ending story? Everything’s on Schedule.