Thursday, March 28, 2013

Long, Shiny & Black...

I was 18, in college and just beginning my life when my Dad's life ended.  It was unexpected, but then who expects a loved one to die when you're 18?  Not me, that's for sure...

The funeral was May first and it was a cold, grey, snowy day when the limo pulled up to our front door.  A part of me noticed and was impressed by the limo's length and comfort; the way we all fit so easily with room to spare.

I thought the drive seemed agonizingly long as we headed toward the funeral home.  Under normal circumstances, I would have loved the Spring snowfall when the snowflakes were big and fat and fluffy, but on that day, they just seemed dreary.

The warmth of the limo and the sound of the wipers blades clearing the wetness lulled me into a semi-sleep. Click clack, click clack... I was exhausted from three sleepless nights of crying immeasurable amounts of tears from shock and grief.

It was so roomy, so warm, so smooth-riding in the limo that I just wanted to stretch out on the long seat and sleep with my head in Mom's lap.  I wanted to tell her to wake me when this nightmare was over. But there would be no stretching out, no head in lap and no relief from the nightmare.

After the funeral we (my family) were in the lead limo which followed behind the black Cadillac hearse that was carrying my beloved father on his last mile.  I felt numb as I stared at the back of that heartbreaking Cadillac, when the tune of "Someday I'm Gonna ride in a Cadillac"  ran through my head.  I started humming it...I didn't mean to...wasn't really aware I was doing it but, there it was for all to hear.

Someday I'm Gonna Ride in Cadillac

My mother lifted her head and looked at me...my brothers and sister looked...and I waited...

they smiled. 

The hearse turned into the cemetery, the snow kept falling as our limo came to a stop.  Soon this day would be behind me and I was glad.  I didn't want to ride in a limo ever again...

3 comments:

  1. Oh, Barbara. Your teenage heartache still pours out through your words. Thanks for being brave enough to share it...

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  2. To lose a father at such a young age ... can't imagine. I'm sorry for your loss.

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  3. Amazing how agonizing the memories of these rides can be regardless of how old we are.

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