Learning How to Bend

December 9

//CRUMMY WORDS but I'm tired, and it's been busy, and I wanted to give y'all SOMETHING. Lily was extremely uncooperative.// 

We were not a religious family...or at least, I did not think we were. It shocked me the next day when mourners lined the pews of a local non-denominational church. The rows were not completely filled according to Thaddeus, but the sanctuary was half full on both sides. Susan and I entered the large room last, sitting in the front row near the casket. Flowers bordered each side of the wooden box, and a picture of my father rested on a stand near where his head would be if the casket were open. Thankfully, though, the box's lid was closed. It made little difference to me since I could not see my father inside, but something about having the casket open unsettled me. I had taken three programs from the boy at the front door. One was written in Braille while the other two were printed like normal. As the service continued, I twisted one of the programs in my hand until I started tearing it into tiny pieces. I still had no idea what I was going to say, and that concerned me. I hated being the center of attention. I hated the feeling of people staring at me, yet I needed to do this for my father. It was his final wish, and I owed him that much.

The church's pastor spoke for a little while on his relationship with my father before I heard Susan's heels echoing as she climbed up the four steps to the podium on the stage. She adjusted the microphone and cleared her throat. By this point, I had completely destroyed one of the programs. I was about to start on another one, but Thaddeus grabbed my hand and held it, thus preventing me from fidgeting further. I did not know whether to love him for the action or dislike him.

"Thank you all for coming today," Susan said. "I was beyond honored to be married to Peter for the last three years. I can truly say it was the best three years of my life. He was the perfect partner. We were opposites in some ways, but we had similar ideals where it mattered most. I just wanted to take a couple moments to recount to you some of my most memorable moments with Peter, both the good and the bad."

I did not have any good moments with my father. How was I supposed to be positive about my relationship with him when none of those moments existed?

"One of the most impactful times was when he asked me to marry him. He was so nervous. We went out to dinner, and he spilled his glass on the table. Everywhere. I could see him shaking, and he stuttered out apologies to anyone who would listen. Peter eventually blurted out the question without the ring even in his hand. I said yes before he had I out of his pocket, and he almost dropped it on the floor after he got it out because he was shaking so badly. We did not have a big wedding ceremony when we got married a few months later, but I did not care. Both those days were the happiest I had ever been.

"When we learned of Peter's cancer...we decided not to take a moment for granted." Her voice broke as tears filled her eyes. "So we traveled. We traveled all around the United States as long as Peter was strong enough to do it. As he grew weaker, though, he started thinking of everything that had happened in his life. His biggest regret was how he treated his daughter."

I froze, my grip on Thaddeus's hand tightening as my other hand closed into a fist.

"He wrote something before he passed. I'm not going to read it, as I believe it is something Liliana should read in private. I don't even know what he said. He was not a good man in his earlier years, but he changed. He changed into my husband, and I...I'm going to miss him. So much. I already do."

"Are you okay?" Thaddeus's voice in my ear startled me enough to make me jump slightly in my seat.

"No," I said.

"I'm going to turn the microphone over to Liliana," Susan said.

I felt the blood drain from my face as I stood, letting go of Thaddeus's hand in the process. I stepped out into the aisle and took Susan's hand when she offered it to me, her placing an envelope in my hand. I turned and gave it to Thaddeus with trembling fingers before I walked up the steps to the podium. I thought I was going to throw up, but I swallowed the bile that was rising up in my throat and took a deep breath. I decided it was better not to click; I did not want to see how many people were now watching me and my shaking knees.

"Hi," I said.

No one said anything.

"I, uh...I wish I were here under better circumstances. This is my first time back in Texas since I moved to New York. Peter was my dad, the only parent I have ever known. My mom died before I ever truly had the opportunity to know her. My dad blamed me for her death and said my blindness was karma. He wasn't a loving man. He never cleaned or bandaged my scrapes, nor did he hold me when I was scared. He never praised me when I succeeded in school. I never felt like I was good enough for him."

I swallowed as my voice cracked.

"He also had issues with alcohol. Sometimes he'd be gone for days at a time. If he drank when he was home...my dad wasn't nice when he was intoxicated. He said things which hurt me so deeply, I still remember them to this day. But despite his issues...he worked hard to provide for him and for me. I never went hungry. The bills were always paid, and the rent was always addressed before it was due. There were a lot of things that I wanted that I didn't get, but I never experienced physical need. He wasn't kind, but he wasn't abusive. I think my existence reminded him too much of my mother, and he didn't know how to bear the pain.

"He wasn't a good dad, but he was mine. He was the only family I ever knew. Despite our issues, I cared for him deeply. And now that he's gone...I realize he cared for me, too. Because although it hurt to see me, I was all he had left of my mother. By providing for me, I think he believed he was honoring my mom's memory. We hadn't talked for a number of years until I happened to answer the phone. I thought it was possibly someone else, so I answered it. If I had known at the time that was the last time I was going to talk to my dad, I think I would've handled the call differently than I did."

I paused to clear my throat. This was a longer stream of words that I was putting together than I ever had in my life. I only hoped my line of thought made sense, because I was making this up as I went along.

"He told me he was happy for me. He acknowledged his part in the state of our relationship, and in his own way, he apologized. I never thought I would hear that from him. I never thought I would say this about my dad, but I think he was a good man at the end of his life. He changed, and I could not see that until now. I think Susan played a big role. Having someone in your life to care for you...it encourages you to be a better person. You want to be worthy of that care and that affection. Maybe if I had cared for my father, he would have changed earlier in his life rather than later. But I didn't because I couldn't. The fact that I never knew the new Peter Hamill—that I never gave him the chance—that will be one of the greatest regrets of my life. He was lost for so many years, but Susan found him. And saved him. We may not have been close, but I'll miss him. Thank you for coming today to honor him. I don't think he'd believe so many people would care enough for him to be here, but you've all proven him wrong. So thank you."

I did not know what else to say, so I simply closed my mouth and stepped back from the microphone. After clicking once, I walked down the stairs and rejoined Thaddeus on the first pew. I basically melted into his side as he put an arm around my waist, my head resting on his shoulder. I felt weak. I had not planned on telling Thaddeus any of what I said, at least not yet. But I could not take back my words now, and I did not want to. I wanted him here. I needed him here. I had lived my entire life feigning independence as much as I could, but I could not do it anymore. I needed him.

I needed him to get through the rest of this weekend.

And the more time I spent with him, the more I believed I needed him to get through the rest of my life.         

//Blaaaaaah...that was no good.  Maybe I'll edit this later.  But for now...it's good enough. My muse and motivation died.