Be A Father Day

Mirror Message

Mike awoke that morning to a clammy chill in the air. Although June was quite late in the season to have such cold weather it just marked another such day in what was an exceptionally dreary Spring. His wife Ann lay next to him almost completely uncovered. He smirked as he thought how typical it was for her to come to bed dressed in sweatpants and a sweatshirt complaining how cold she felt only to wake up completely undressed and uncovered. He often gave her a hard time about her thermal stabilization deficiency.

Stepping into the shower he felt the warm rush of water on his skin. While it was soothing he was still a bit groggy and without much reflection he glided through his shower routine on autopilot.  Mike pulled open the shower curtain, grabbed his towel, and while drying himself noticed the mirror had started to fog from the wall of warm, wet air that pressed into the room when he moved aside the curtain. It didn't commonly fog up but with the cold morning it wasn't really surprising.  What caught his attention though was the writing that was appearing on the mirror, "HI DAD".

"Hey Ann, come here quick," he shouted and as she entered the bathroom he pointed to the mirror and said, "check it out." "Awww..." she crooned, "he's so cute!" and he had to agree.  He felt another warm rush, this time of satisfaction and pride that his youngest son Robert had considered him at some similar opportune moment and had left him a secret message.  He found himself wondering just how long it may have been there waiting for him.  With that bright spot on his morning he wiped the mirror clean and wrote back with a wet finger, "HI ROB".  Then he finished readying himself and left for work.

Broken Pane

Then he was gone. It happened too quickly for him to even know.  The crash that took Mike's life left broken glass scattered everywhere glinting in the early morning sun.  A million tiny reflections strewn about like stray pieces of his life.

Gift of Reflection

It was the first day of Summer vacation and only two days after receiving the news of his death that Ann and both her sons, Robert and Donald, awoke to another chilly day.  Those last two days had been longer than any of them could remember.  They had not attended their final days of school and had barely been able to scrape together meals let alone eat them.  Their nights had been fitful and they had all slept at different times heaped together in disarray on the couch.  Being unable to think of anything else to occupy their time they had fallen to watching Bond movies, Mike's favorites, to pass the time.

Today was the funeral, however, and it was time they cleaned themselves up and readied themselves for the road ahead.  It was getting late in the morning when they showered, ate a little breakfast, and quietly got into the car.  Donald had just gotten his driving permit but took no pleasure in driving them to the funeral home that day.  They were given some time alone as a family with the casket, a closed casket.  Because of the accident they weren't even able to see him again.

They stood solemnly beside it for a while.  Tears were streaming from them all but when Ann began to sob uncontrollably Donald hugged her as he led her to sit in the nearby chairs.  Rob still stood next to the casket with his hand resting upon the side.  After a few minutes Ann lifted her head to notice Rob slowly drawing a finger along the casket.  Then he dropped his hand and walked over to sit down.  He quietly said to them, "after my shower I found the message Dad left for me on the mirror."  When she realized Rob had been writing something on the casket she stammered, "wha.... what were you writing?"

"BYE DAD"

Epilogue

In truth my son Sam did leave me the original message in the mirror that I saw while drying off and my mind drifted into this story as I considered the approach of Father's Day.  I've heard it said that you should pity the living; however, in my mind I felt pity for myself - the dead one in the casket.  Never again would I be pleasantly surprised by some tender act of kindness from my children nor feel the pride of seeing their independent achievements.  Some say they live for their children and refer to how much their children need them.  I believe their feelings are altruistic but misguided.  I must say with as much respect as I can muster, "Fuck that!" I'm living for myself and moments like these.

Happy Father's Day!