Remembering
I heard Toni Morrison say to Oprah on her show, “Your face
should light up when your child walks in the room.” My daddy’s always did and
his smile lit the whole room. He died 21 years ago and I have been thinking
about him a lot lately. He was generous with his words, his money, and his
love. One time in particular he changed his usual behavior just for me.
When my first husband left me, I called Daddy at six in the
morning crying. He said, “I don’t know what I’ll do, but I’ll do something. Can
you go to school?”
“I can’t stay here by myself. It’s a teacher workday so I
don’t have to be in front of students.”
When I got to school, I called my mother who was already at
her teaching job at James Monroe High School in Fredericksburg, VA. She said,
“Your daddy is on his way. He should be there in about ten hours if he doesn’t
hit heavy traffic.”
When I got home from school, I alternated between pacing and
staring at the sliding glass door. At 10:00 pm the empty frame of the door was
finally filled with the sight of him. I jumped up, hugged him, cried, and began
the long sordid story. He did not interrupt while I talked till midnight. I
couldn’t sleep so about 2:00 am I crawled in the guest bed beside him and
finally slept with my back to his back.
The next day he continued to listen. Before that Daddy always
talked and told you what to do. I told the tale until my tears dried up.
Then he took me out to eat. I said, “I can’t eat.” He said,
“Take a little bite, chew, take a sip of water, then swallow….OK, keep doing
that until you have finished half of the grilled cheese.”
As soon as I was fed and watered, I began to cry again. After
two days, I said, “I feel like every decision I’ve made for five years is
wrong. I’m going to make another one that might be wrong. I’m going home.” I
was in my third week of a new teaching job in Nashville, TN. I come from a
family of do-right teachers--you don’t miss school and you certainly don’t
quit. I did anyway.
Daddy went to the phone, called my mother and said, “Get out
here. I need some help. She’s coming home.” His not giving advice and listening
for two days while I cried was a lifetime gift of grace that nourishes me still.
