I’ve dealt with death before. My chosen profession exposes me to it more than, let’s say, Colin’s profession exposes him. I always wondered how I’d handle it when I lost one of my parents. Would I fall to the ground and cry uncontrollably like I’ve seen others do? Would I politely thank the doctor delivering the devastating news as if they baked me a fresh batch of chocolate-chip cookies? I do none of these things.
What I do instead is go into doctor mode. Let’s fix this. Let’s deal with the crisis. I decide to make a list of what has to be done.
1. Console my sisters.
2. Console my step-mom, Carmen.
3. Check on Mom. How’s she going to feel about her ex-husband passing away?
4. Make funeral arrangements.
5. Write his obituary.
6. Get him buried.
7. Deal with the medical practice.
As we enter the hospital, Colin’s number flashes on my phone screen. He’s not going to be pleased when he realizes that I sent him to voicemail. I’m not ready to be consoled yet. I don’t have to listen to his message to know that he’s jumping in the car and will be here as soon as possible. He loves me. He loves Ainsley. That’s great and all, however right now, I’m trying to find out when the hospital will release my father’s body to the funeral home so we can start making arrangements.
Doctor mode.
The best assistant in the world gets Ainsley and I situated in the waiting room and takes the key that I was smart enough to grab from the junk drawer in the laundry room, the one to my old townhouse, to make sure it’s stocked with everything Ainsley and I’ll need to call it home for a while. They say that money can’t buy happiness, but it can purchase the baby gear that I’ll need for Ainsley, clothes for both her and I, toiletries, and food for all of us. Right now, I wouldn’t call those things happiness, but they sure do bring some stability to this unbelievable rabbit hole I feel like I’ve fallen through. My father is dead. I’ll never see him again.
Everyone has gone back to Carmen’s home. Is it strange that I’m already not thinking of it as Dad’s house? Brad is accepting furniture deliveries at my townhome. Ainsley is asleep in my arms as I wait patiently for the funeral home to claim my dad’s body.
The nurse asked me a few times if I wanted to see him. All my sisters went in and said their goodbyes. I didn’t. The last time that I saw my dad, he’d come up for one of Colin’s home games. He sat with me in our box. We talked football and medicine. He held Ainsley and gave her “Poppy” kisses. He’d hoped that she would agree that Poppy was a good name for him. I smile, thinking about his next comment. “If she’s anything like you six girls, she’ll come up with the name that sounds the least like Poppy.” He actually even went into the locker room to congratulate Colin on a good game before he left to return to Houston.
I have no reason to see my father’s lifeless body. I’ve accepted that he’s gone. I know that he loved me. He knew how happy my life is with Colin. He met his first grandchild. He died on the golf course, playing an exceptional game of golf according to the scorecard that I found in his bag of personal belongings. No. Jack Collins and I were and are in a good place. No regrets.
I’m mentally and physically worn out. Just as I put my head back against the wallpapered wall and shut my eyes, Colin’s presence wraps me in warmth. The hair on the back of my neck stands up, and his smell rolls over me, making me feel peaceful inside.
“Hi,” I greet him without opening my eyes.
He kisses Ainsley on the head, and then I feel his warm, soft lips on my cheek. “I’m so sorry, baby. I tried calling you a couple of times, but you sent me to voicemail.”
There’s a hint of hurt in his voice, but I ignore it. I can’t deal with Colin’s bruised feelings at the moment. “It’s been crazy.”
“What can I do?”
I open my eyes for the first time to look at him. He’s in his after-game gear. His hair is a mess. Leaning into his shoulder, I inhale. “Did you not shower?”
His face is etched with concern. He rubs my leg and says, “I just had to get to you.”
For some reason, those words break down whatever “doctor mode” wall that I’ve built, and I begin to sob. Colin takes a sleeping Ainsley from me, and places her on a loveseat right by us, covering her with the baby blanket I brought in. He pulls me into his lap and holds me while I finally let out the sorrow that I’m feeling for losing my dad. He rocks me like he rocks Ainsley, and there’s something about that motion that brings me the comfort that I’m desperately craving.