Creating a Mask

As I stood there staring at him I could feel myself going deeper into shock. It was like I hit a cement wall that knocked the wind out of me. He was so white and I didn’t want to stand too close, I definitely didn’t want to touch him. How could my mother just touch him? Even my sister, she seemed to have no problem reaching her hand out and placing it on his chest. I didn’t want to believe that it was my dad laying there. That it was my dad that could do such a horrific thing.  Eventually we all took our own alone time with him while everyone else stayed near the back of the church. When my turn came I decided I didn’t want to go alone. I asked my brother to stay by me. He walked me back up to the front where my dad lay lifeless. I didn’t want to look at him while I talked. I looked down at the scar on my left thumb. I begun to tell him how much I missed him and how sad mom and Haley were. I told him I didn’t understand why he did what he did but that I hoped he wasn’t sad anymore. The tears started to pour down my face the more I spoke. “Dad,” I said, “I love this scar on my thumb because it will always remind me of our relationship.” With my arm tightly around my brother’s waist, I felt his body shake with sobs. When I was 17 I sliced my thumb open with a glass by accident and had to go to the emergency room. It was very late and we didn’t leave until almost 4am. My dad took me and didn’t complain once even though it was such a silly accident that had turned into such a long night for him. I knew he was tired and I felt so bad. When I finally went back to see the doctor the cut was very deep all the way to the bone. I needed 6 stitches and I was terrified. I remember grasping my dad’s hand tightly as my eyes welled up with tears. Later he told me he felt like we became closer in that moment. So did I. Now every time I look at the scar I am reminded of his protection and fatherly love. It makes me miss him more. I felt like a little girl again talking to my daddy and telling him how much I loved him. After a few minutes I had had enough, I felt so drained.

We all piled back into the van and the ride home seemed even longer than the ride there. The mood was heavy and tense. I held my breath waiting for one of us to break out into sobs. But on the contrary, everyone held it together. Looking back, I have to say that that was the worst day of the entire ordeal. At least for me. The only way I can describe it is literally nightmarish.

The night of the viewing was overwhelming. I don’t recall exactly what time it began, I just remember it lasting what seemed like all night. The people never stopped pouring in through the sanctuary doors. I didn’t know how to act or what to say. Was I allowed to smile at people I hadn’t seen in a long time? What was I supposed to say to all those people looking at me with pity all over their faces? I decided it was best to be the ever so composed pastors daughter I had always tried to be. “Hello, thank you for coming” I said with a half smile as I greeted people. I gave comforting hugs to those that cried on my shoulder…though I wasn’t sure if the tears they shed were for them or for me. I shared “small talk” conversations with people as no one really knew what to say to me. I found myself trying to make others feel comfortable and at ease rather than letting my emotions show all over my face. This behavior was the start of building a wall that I'm still trying to tare down. A wall made up of all sorts of layers such as bitterness, anger, sadness, depression, and lonliness. I found it was better to not let anyone see how I really was (even my family) than to hear advice, or get the “pity look” as I used to call it.

The night came to an end and I was mentally, physically, and emotionally drained. The past few hours had been a blur. After we left we went to Mimi’s café with my family and Nathan and Serena Kesler. Nathan always made my mom laugh and that night was no different. I heard her laugh and my heart felt a little less heavy. I barely ate. As would become an unhealthy habit over the next year.