Ineffable

Fortune Cookie

"Philips?"

Mom and I stood up. She was nervous but I wasn't. I was calm. Dad told us he doesn't want us to panic. We walked behind the door and once it clicked shut, Dr. Anthony's face flushed. He walked us to Daddy's room though he looked like at any given moment he was going to collapse.

"Hey Daddy, how did surgery go?"

His lips were sealed and his eyes remained shut. He was still.

"Dad?"

"Your father," the doctor started. Fear overcame me and hope was gone, "he didn't wake up."

Nerves completely took over Mom as she loudly grieved, falling to her knees. My whole body was numb and stiff.

"What?" I asked, praying I misheard him.

"Mr. Philips was lost during operation. His cancer was too strong – too vicious – it took him before we had the chance to save him and-" he stopped. He didn't usually tell families this, you could tell. I just wish he didn't have to tell me. I unfolded Daddy's sheets to retrieve his hand. They were usually warm and you wouldn't ever want to let go of them. I wrapped both my hands around his frightening cold ones and brought them up to my lips. That's when I lost it, Dad is gone. Completely and utterly gone. The world has stopped, I know it has. Every day it will rain, every day people will mourn, every day has vanished. Today will replay in my head for eternity.

The doctor allowed Mom and me to talk to him if we pleased. Tears flowed heavily through our eyes. Mom left unable to see her late lover. She got up and pushed the door open permitting it to slowly shut, to slowly block out the sick light. Turning back around quickly I see something in the corner of my eye. It looked like a silhouette of a known figure. I quickly searched back in the corner hoping it was Dad and all this was a horrible joke but once I looked back it was gone. Being a nurse myself, I usually help with removing the deceased, the sight isn't gory to me, however today I couldn't keep my stomach from escaping out my mouth. I ran to the bathroom just in time to keep the vomit clean. It was time to leave; if I stay any longer all I could do is take up a room that can be use it to help someone else.

I opened the door expecting hell on Earth and saw two women hugging each other. The shorter one whispered something along the lines of her brother making it. A few rooms down was a teen girl singing to her newborn child. Once I got outside, I didn't see rain or darkness, I saw the sun smiling and birds playing in a puddle. There was even a double rainbow. This isn't right. My purse clumsily slipped out of my hand and I noticed a fortune cookie from the Chinese restaurant around the block. As I picked it up, I thought about how seriously Dad took these silly superstitions.

"Your lucky numbers are 22, 38, 37, and 72." The Chinese word was, ironic enough, destiny "mìngyùn." I flipped the paper over thinking about how to pronounce the word. "Life isn't about people – it's about history." That's when I realized no matter what happens life goes on its perfect course. My lucky numbers were truly lucky as well. At age 22, I had my child, Lindsay Hope Smith; 38 I reunited with my true love; 39 my stepdaughters and I met; and 72, the luckiest day of my entire life, the day I was reconciled with Daddy.