The Quiet of Winter

My father was a quiet person, so it's appropriate that he passed in a silent early morning at the end of winter. It could very well explain why I have such a disdain for this cold, harsh season.

I never grew up celebrating holidays, and yet this winter season always reminds me of what it is like to get together with family. There were those festive time in my aunt's house where everyone brought some dish, and the older folks sat around and laughed and reminisced about their old times. The older of the cousins did the cool things like drove to the store to get whatever was needed or played outside. The younger ones of us or the less outdoors inclined would watch TV or play music or sing. We had great times. Those were good times.

I don't remember much about my dad in those times. He was there, present, happy to be around family that was more inclusive than his own. I remember that I never really heard him talk much at home, but this is when I could actually hear my father talk about things. I learned that he was human.

Sometimes when winter rolls around, I think about picking up the phone or making a trip over to the house to see how he is. And then I pause, and collect my thoughts, and I am instantly transported to the moment when I saw his monitor display a single final flatline. I remember the quiet in the wintry Edison hospital room where he lay, and the eerie calm of my mother, sister and I as we gathered things from the room, and left the room, not really grasping what was transpiring, and yet fully aware of what we had just witnessed. I remember the starkness of the white wall that held me up as I stopped and felt unable to feel, or unable to move.  Even now, I sometimes question why I did not run back to that room until I had every verification possible that there was no life left in him. Yet, when one of your parents dies, there is no mistaking or doubts possible. It is as if one of the directions was removed from your compass. Choose which one would like to erase - it's nonsensical. As it is now, so weird and disconcerting.

And then I see people with their families, families expecting new additions, couples preparing to get married, students graduating, many different landmarks, and I realize that I will never have the joy of sharing this with my father. I won't also really have his approval or support in any way. It's not a lament, but sometimes I just need to accept that this is the natural reaction I have and why this time is so difficult.

And, alas, winter, as is life, is brief and fleeting.