A Red Velvet Box
A Narrative.
When I was ten years old, my Dad went to prison. His abscense left me feeling insecure, unsafe and undisciplined. He was larger than life to me. His omipresence radiated even after he was gone. I had no picutres of him, just a pencilied grey self protrait of himself behind grey bars. His eyes, even on that paper were full of love and despair.
Until I was fifteeen, Dad and I wrote to each other often. Mom moved out of town and I moved in with a boyfiriend. I never recieved another letter from Dad once we moved. I thought that I would never hear from him again. Not knowing where he was was, ate me up inside. I did mail several letters to him but never recieved a response. I wondered if he had just not recieved the letters, or if maybe he was moved to different prison.
Then, one muggy summer afternoon, the telephone rang, it was for me. “Hello?” I said. A strange, yet familiar voice on the other end replied, “Stephy-Doodle?”
Six years of longing crept into my stomach and up to my throat. I could barely speak. I felt as if I were choking, I asked “Dad?”. I cried as he asked where I was and if we could meet for coffee. I was trembling and sweating, crying tears of relief, joy and bewilderment that he had found me.
During the next fourteen years, Dad and I reconnected. We spent hours at the kitchen table, drinking coffee, smoking cigarrettes and reflecting on life. We never missed a birthday and celebrated every Holiday as if they would be our last. We even lived close to each other, living side by side in a duplex at one point in time. Sometimes Dad would call me just to start singing into the telephone, “I just called to say I love you…” by Stevie Wonder. I felt that I knew Dad pretty well and he was the only person who really knew me.
Dad had not seen a doctor since 1972, so when I recieved a call at work on May 26, 2006, saying that he was in the hospital, I froze. Time stood still. My heart raced, thumping through every fiber of my being. Everything around me went grey and blurry. I rasped “I’ll be right there, where is he, Westfield?” I hung up the telephone in slow motion and turned to my boss. He could see the terror that I felt and simply told me to go. I did not say a word.
I drove as fast as I could without getting pulled over. I prayed the whole way from Dunkirk to Westfield. I prayed that there was a mistake. I prayed to a God that I did not know. My hands were so wet with sweat by the time that I arrived there, I could barely open the door. I was angry when my hand slipped from the handle of the emergency room doors. I somehow managed to get into the hospital. The smell of disinfectants stung my nostrils as I walked to the front desk.
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Published in: Family
lauralu | May 27, 2012 | Reply
Heartfelt and well written story about a dearly loved Father.
Glad you had that time with him sorry it ended so sadly
great to have such chereished memories. (:
Molly Girl 822 | May 27, 2012 | Reply
A tribute to your dad is a beautiful way to show your love.
erwinkennythomas | May 27, 2012 | Reply
It is agonizing to feel your hurt. Losing a parent is one of the most difficult thing that a person can experience. Yet I was happy to know that you still cherish his memories through his ashes. This piece was a deeply moving portrayal of your dad who you loved so much. Be comforted and thanks for sharing!
smokychristine | May 27, 2012 | Reply
Powerful tribute, Mom. You had a wonderful bond.
Wrath Warbone | May 27, 2012 | Reply
Beautiful story in many ways. I could feel the love.
Safa | May 27, 2012 | Reply
Lovely tribute to your dad…Beautiful and heartfelt story
Socorro Lawas | May 27, 2012 | Reply
You have a beautiful narrative style.The box is a symbol.
evcalangian | May 27, 2012 | Reply
Very touching. Truly, memories of our loved ones linger our minds at times. I’m sorry for the lost. A good share.
Shwe | May 27, 2012 | Reply
Memories way too long and precious.well-articulated
sabanawaz | May 28, 2012 | Reply
Thank you for such a wonderful tribute to your dad. I know it’s not easy to bring back memory of loss. My heart breaks whenever a friend or family even my patient’s mentioning about loosing a parent, a child, Your dad was a loving man, I’m glad to know him through your post.
Will Dee | May 28, 2012 | Reply
Beautiful story. I love the way you built up your story plot. Well done!
Rarity HIll | May 28, 2012 | Reply
What happened next? I want to hear the rest of the story. It is hanging.
KittyK | May 28, 2012 | Reply
Accepting the loss of a parent is so very difficult…and I speak from sad experiences as well – too fresh!
Philippa Mingins | May 28, 2012 | Reply
I admire your honest style of writing. It’s easy to write about general things but far more difficult to pen what is close to the bone.
jennifer eiffel01 | May 28, 2012 | Reply
Very good. Daddy had a white tube sticking out of his mouth, too when he died in the ambulance on the way to the hospital. Daddy, too, was my best friend that ever lived. He was te nicest, sweetest man who loved to joke and his last seven years of his life in retirement our priest said during the Mass was to make me as happy as possible.
observer1 | May 28, 2012 | Reply
Absolutely brilliant writing, real page turning prose. Direct from the heart and it shows.
As somebody says above the article leaves you desperate for more and that’s the best comment of all.
RemieRyan | May 28, 2012 | Reply
Just full of emotions. I nearly cried.
Dreamy777 | May 28, 2012 | Reply
Very touching
webintechs007 | May 28, 2012 | Reply
Very Nice…I like it…
xphantoms | May 28, 2012 | Reply
Like article, and than share
misterdd | May 28, 2012 | Reply
I am really sorry to hear that. But i am happy that you write so good, and thanks for share. It is nice to have someone that know you so good, even if that person is not here anymore. Have a nice day. All best
Aroosa Gloomy | May 28, 2012 | Reply
It clicked my heart
Lorna Z | May 28, 2012 | Reply
it broke my heart
SharifaMcFarlane | May 28, 2012 | Reply
I am glad you had those years with him. Sorry for your loss.
vickylass | May 28, 2012 | Reply
It’s a moving story, indeed, but I wouldn’t have kept my mother’s ashes at home as I think they deserve to be let loose and to rest somewhere else. Me thinks! good share!
Cynthia J | May 28, 2012 | Reply
Mom,
Is your name Stephanie? If so, would it be ok, if I called you that? My oldest daughter’s name is Stephanie and I call her Stephy, for short. I had tears in my eyes, while I was reading this piece. It’s such a sad, yet, gripping write. My heart goes out to you my friend. I’m so sorry for your loss. Well done my friend. Keep up with the great work. Keep on penning. Thank you so very much for sharing your wonderful and creative talents with us. We all truly appreciate it.
*S* Cynthia
Rarity HIll | May 28, 2012 | Reply
OMG. I don’t like to see someone suffer like this. I hope he rest in peace now.
iva75cpb | May 30, 2012 | Reply
You touched my heart with this. So sorry. Time can never heal the emptiness, only the memory will keep you strong. Heads up!
Lisa Marie Mottert | May 30, 2012 | Reply
Very moving and touching. I know how you feel, I adored my dad.
sheilanewton | May 30, 2012 | Reply
Thanks for sharing this. And you told it straight from the heart too. Wonderful work.
China Cancio | May 30, 2012 | Reply
I am forlorn.
blanka | Jun 5, 2012 | Reply
Is this a true story…?
blanka | Jun 6, 2012 | Reply
“Love and Despair!”
A powerful and potent mix.
Remarkable writing.
blanka | Jun 6, 2012 | Reply
“Love and Despair!”
A powerful and potent mix.
Remarkable writing.
blanka | Jun 6, 2012 | Reply
“Love and despair.”
A potent and powerful mix.
Lovely prose.
Chris Bailie | Jun 7, 2012 | Reply
Beautifully written, and very sad, thank you for sharing your story.
Eiddwen | Jun 9, 2012 | Reply
So very full of emotion ;thanks for sharing this gem.
Enjoy your weekend.
Eddy.
Jswana | Jun 21, 2012 | Reply
It seems like the love for him out weighs the tragic loss of him in some ways. This is lovely. He had to be good to have this much love from a daughter. I do understand. Peace.