written and illustrated by Melanie Wallace dedicated to my family: Dad, Mom, Chris, Cathy, Bill & Ben love you guys

I am standing at the gate by the creek. The Today, I am going through creek runs under the road that is behind the gate. me, through a large metal culvert filled with spider webs and dumps into a large pool of water which I think is very deep. Before I get to the gate, I step off the road and down a steep ditch. I have to go slow, because there is barbed wire all over. There is a stone wall too. Some times I sit on the stone wall, throwing things in the creek and watching them float down stream. Sometimes I drop things on the other side of the road and run across, waiting for them to float through.

The gate has metal bars in the shape of an X with the barbed wire woven through. We’ve stepped on the wire enough to make a small hole to crawl through.

I am sitting in my Dad’s hospice room. In has a happy face. Ben is nine years younger. front of me, lies my father in a bed. His arms He looks and acts a lot like me with brown and legs are very thin and he sleeps most of hair, blue eyes and the same ambition to be the time. To the right is his bathroom with a productive everyday, like our Dad. large walk-in shower. To the left are beautiful views of the trees and snow through large It’s just coincidence that we are together patio doors. Behind me is another attached today, holding vigil while we watch my father room where visitors can sit, a small desk and deteriorate. My Dad can’t communicate well tv. It’s a beautiful space with warm, bamboo, and seems to be in a dream-like state talking wood floors, wood trim, paintings on the about the farm, dirt, chickens, and prison. walls and a sofa bed. (He’s never been in prison.)

By some miracle, my sister and two brothers We sit mostly in silence – mostly numb from all arrive at the same time, even though the situation. Someone mentions blood they drove from different locations and the sausage. I don’t know why. It reminds me that meeting is unplanned. Cathy is four years I have my journal with my cow tongue story. younger than me, tall and bleach blond. She So I break out my journal and read several is the most beautiful person I know, because stories. Smiles come to everyone’s face she is so kind to so many. My brother Bill except my Dad, who is delirious. is six years younger, very kind and always

I am ten years old standing in front of loved making large pans of casserole for our the refrigerator. To my right is this family of seven. I don’t remember anything long farm house window where I in the fridge except one large silver pan. am soon to spend hours, sitting Hmmm. What was mom cooking? My mouth and talking on the rotary phone waters. What could it be? with a party line. There is a wire bench with a cushion. To the right Yikes! It’s a giant cow tongue floating in is a book shelf. Once, there was a water, fully cooked with bits of something window there. The framing was left floating. I’m horrified. It’s so creepy. It’s a and shelving put in when my Dad added two pale pink 4x2x12” piece of meat with porous bedrooms to the house. My mom has filled bumps. I knew my dad ate blood sausage, the shelf with nick-nacs and cook books. which is animal brains or something, but It’s painted blue like the rest of the newly this looks worse than redesigned kitchen. Behind me is the kitchen anything I’ve ever seen. sink. A small window over the sink shows the It’s as if the cow was dining room. laying dead by the side of the road and someone So, after school, I’m starving. I open the went and cut it’s tongue refrigerator door hoping to find some left off. I’ve lost my appetite. over tuna or hamburger casserole. My mom

I’m standing in my back yard between the cuts the turtle up. He has my Mom fry it. I try house and the barn. In front of me is a twenty a little and we all conclude that it tastes like foot tree and under the tree is my Dad. chicken. The shell was dried and hung in the garage for twenty or more years. We were driving just one-half mile from the house, when my Dad saw a turtle in the road. We stopped, and to my surprise, my Dad threw the turtle in the trunk of the car. It was a snapping turtle with a 12x18 inch shell. My Dad thought that the turtle had been hit by a car, causing the crack and bleeding on the top of the shell. He said the turtle would die.

My Dad hangs the turtle from the tree with it’s head down and then cuts the head off. The turtle is left there to drip all day. I periodically walk by to take a look a the gruesome scene. Later in the day, my Dad

I am riding in the back seat of my Dad’s ‘69 My dad says, “What do you think? Want it?” Impala. I see my younger brothers in the seat We all scream “Yes” and start arguing about to my right, as well as my younger sister. My what his name should be. Everyone gets older sister gets to sit in front. back in the car. The windows are open – it’s summer time. My dad picks up the dog and We left our house and drove a couple miles plops him on my lap. It’s big, heavy and a down a beautiful tree-lined country road. A little scratchy with it’s curly orange hair. couple turns and we’ve arrived at a farm house. We get out and the owner It’s body is wide at the shoulders, narrow at walks out with a dog. The dog the waist, and wide at the bottom – shaped jumps all over us and licks us. like a peanut. “Peanuts” I say. And everyone I start to wonder, is getting a likes it. We have a new dog named Peanuts dog really a good thing? and head home. I am sitting in the living room with my sisters Lawrence Welk - even worse. The men wear and brother watching Shawn Cassidy on TV. pastel suits and the women wear bouffant He’s so cute. I lie on the floor getting as close as hairdos and chiffon dresses, also pastel. This I can to the huge TV. It’s dark in the room and show is a half hour. Shawn Cassidy will be over the TV glows. I’m entranced by the cute boy on by then. I ask “When will Mom be ready?” and TV and see nothing around me. Dad says, “I don’t know.” I only ask because as soon as she’s ready, they can leave and I can get Then my Dad walks in, flips on the overhead back to my show. It seems to last forever. “A one, light and says “Don’t watch TV in the dark. It a two, a three.” as Lawrence Welk taps his baton will ruin your eyes.” He walks up to the TV, and starts another song, during which the ladies turns on Hee Haw and then sits on a chair. and men, dressed like Easter eggs start to dance He’s waiting for my mom to get ready for their and sing in fluffy tones. Finally my mom walks date night. We are all disappointed that he in. I smell her perfume and she’s wearing changed the channel, but don’t say anything. makeup. “Bye!” And there’s only a few minutes He’s the boss. Five minutes of Hee Haw and it’s left of Shawn Cassidy. That’s ok. Laugh-In is next over. Thank God. But then my Dad turns on and we can watch it, because Dad is gone.

I’m sitting in my Dad’s room again. This time, get bits and pieces. He talks about how the I’m in the side room on the sofa bed. In front sockets are stuck, and he turns his hands, of me is my Aunt Betty. She may be ten years as if he’s unscrewing the sockets. A couple older than me. She has short brown hair and times, we fed him, and when we are done, his pretty eyes that always look away at the end hands go through the motions as if he’s still of a sentence in a shy sort of way. She’s petite, eating. He takes a bite of an apple, holding quiet and gentle. My Dad had three brothers it in his hand, biting, chewing and even a and three sisters. Betty is the youngest girl. look of enjoyment on his face. But there is no apple. When he was awake, his hands I came at eight this morning. When I left at were fidgeting constantly. He’d put his arm 9:30, I said “I love you.” and he said “I love in a pocket of his blanket as if he’s storing you too.” Then I said “Good bye.” and he said something. What is going on in his mind? I “Good bye.” I left for an appointment and only wish I knew. came back to find him sleeping. Betty and I talked as my Dad slept for hours without Betty and I talked about how we pick a time waking in the room next to us. to cry about my Dad. And we both felt guilty for not crying all day. Then decided it was Throughout the day, My Dad speaks a few just better to distract ourselves with other words and makes hand motions. We don’t things, than to sit and be depressed. really know what he’s thinking. We just

I’m very young. I must be a year, because Finally the door opens. Mom is finally I’m standing in my crib crying. The railings here. Wait. This isn’t my mom. Her voice is are high. I’m holding on with my hands. I’m different. She smells different and is thin crying. Why doesn’t my Mom come? It’s dark with a big necklace. She talks to me, but I in my small room. I don’t see anything except only cry harder because I want my mom. a crack of light under the door revealing the My Mom finally arrives and the strange hardwood floor. I smell cigarette smoke. It lady passes me over to her. Everything is bothers me. It’s so strong. I hear many voices good now. of people talking and laughing and music in the background.

I am sitting in the back seat of my Dad’s My mom sits in front of me. I wonder if she new ‘69 navy blue Chevy Impala. It’s got more than half of a hamburger. My Dad summer time. Not hot, but warm enough is diving and I think he got more, because I that my legs stick to the seat. I’m wearing see him take one bit that consumes half of shorts, a shirt and red Keds. My legs are a burger. We’re on our way home now. dangling over the seat. Everything seems so large. My sister is way over on the other side. I can’t see out the window – it’s too high. I must be four years old. My younger sister hasn’t arrived yet. I’m really excited because we went to McDonald’s. We always drive by and I see they have sold a million burgers. That must be a y place. Today, my Dad stopped and bought dinner. My sister and I share a hamburger. My half sits on the ledge below the window crank. I eat it slowly and savor it. This is so exciting. I’m walking down the hallway of the I take a few steps in the hallway, towards Rainbow Hospice building to my Dad’s the large family room where 10-15 family room. I’ve been in the building since eight members sit. Then I think I should go back. this morning. Around 11:00am, the nurses I should support my Mom and make sure noticed a change in my Dad’s breathing and she is ok. I step back into the room. Straight said it’s time to call family in. Throughout the ahead of me is my Dad, lying in the bed in the day, after 11:00am, I would only stay in the same position he’s been in all day. His head is room a few minutes, because it was difficult turned toward the patio doors on the left. His to watch his breathing. He’d breath out and long, thin arms are crossed on his stomach. I sometimes it would seem like forever before can see his long thin legs through folds of the the next breath, and every time you wonder blanket. His mouth has been open for days, if it was his last and I’d hold my own breath gasping for breath. In the week that he’s been while I waited. here, he’s gone from sitting up, talking, eating and warm to unresponsive, unable to move Now it’s nearly 7:30pm, and I’m in the hall. I and unable to drink. know the priest was in there earlier. I take a few steps into the room and back out when I hear that they are still praying. I don’t want to be a part of that. If there was a God, he wouldn’t have given my Dad cancer twice. To his left sits my mother. She is crying. Then my Dad’s eyes open half way for Not all the time, but she is crying now and the first time in hours. He takes a deep, caresses my Dad’s arm. My sister Cathy sits hard breath and we count the seconds to on his right with a hand on his shoulder. ourselves, waiting for the next breath. But Next to my Mom, sits the priest reading from there isn’t one. Slowly his mouth closes. his bible and my two aunts. It’s very dark. A Voices stir. “He’s not breathing. Carl? Carl? dim lamp lights the room off to the side. The Some one call a nurse.” We are all in disbelief bathroom light dramatically lights the sides asking ourselves if this is really happening. of everyone’s faces. I hear crying and a few We are struck, of course, by the fact that this whispers. The priest is praying. I take a seat very well could be the moment of his death. on the large square foot stool next to my Aunt But astonished by the timing – immediately Joyce. The priest starts the Our Father and after the final prayer and Amen. the five women, including me, join in. Our voices are very soft. We finish and the priest That moment is one I will never forget: seeing continues with one prayer for a few minutes. my Dad lie there with no life and watching He concludes with “In the name of the Father, him pass. Watching him pass in such a the Son and the Holy Spirit. Amen.” And we peaceful way. It was as if he was waiting for all say Amen as we all look at my Dad. that final spiritual blessing, looked at my Mom, and left. You are standing inside the house at the back Finally, you reach the barn. The door is huge door. Before you step out, you need to go and rolls on a metal track with wheels. But down the rickety basement stairs to get some you don’t need to open it. Just craw through dog food. It smells musty in the basement. the hole in the door where the wood plank The floor is like dirt and there are spider has broken off. You have to go in, but you webs everywhere. know the dog, Lucifer, is inside. She’s twice as big as you and will lick or scratch. It’s You have the dog food and go back up and totally dark and scary. So you dump the food out the screen door. There isn’t much light, through the hole and run back to the house. but you know the path. To the right is the old gravel driveway turn-around. You follow it for 10-15 steps, then turn left onto the tire track path. The track is lower than the grass and almost wide enough to walk in. The grass there is dead and it’s mostly dirt with occasional puddles. You start to walk to the barn. Chris is behind, making you go first this time. She has the water. I am lying on the floor, in the living room You know the witch will appear soon and at the old house on Peopple Road, resting your heart beats fast. She’s only on TV, but the front half of my body on a large, square, she’s so scary with her long fingernails, green corduroy pillow which leaves lines on my skin, ratchety voice and mean grimace. There skin. I am lucky not to be alone, because a she is, up on the roof of a house throwing scary movie, The Wizard Of Oz, is on TV. balls of fire. I bury my head in the pillow because I can’t watch as I move closer to my Mom, Cathy and Ben are on the sofa behind brother. Let this scene be over. Let them on me. Chris is on the brown, rotating chair to their way. the right and my brother Bill is cuddled up next to me on another large pillow. Everyone is munching on a bowl of popcorn and intensely watching. She’s standing in the dark barn with her two same old stuff. The cat come in. A gray tabby. sisters. It’s a hot summer day, even hotter in She moves ahead of them and disappears the barn. The only light comes in through the behind a stack of wood. Half way through broken window at one ends of the barn. It’s the barn, they see onions drying above them not a traditional barn. Its a half circle shape on an old screen door. They hear the cat made with metal, corrugated roofing. The meowing loudly and are surprised to hear wood timbers support the roofing and there the tiny sound of many kittens. They walk are wood timbers on both ends of the barn. carefully over the boards with nails sticking In the front of the barn is a space where the out and see behind the stack of wood, a sort car gets parked. The rest of the barn is filled of nest with kittens. One lies still and is dead. with rusty farm equipment, stacks of wood, windows, doors and Dad’s old national guard trunk.

She opens the trunk, even though her Dad doesn’t want her to. Inside is a blanket and some really old canned food. She and her sisters move on when they realize it’s the After my Dad died, we called everyone into minutes had passed. I knew I had to leave. the room, letting them know he had passed. I rationalized. He isn’t here anymore. I’m We stood around, cried off and on. Cried hard sitting here with what remains of his body. at times. After a while, we absorbed the fact Not sitting with my Dad. He has left. So I left. that he was gone and after an hour, some started to leave.

There were several of us left. The ambulance would be here soon to take him to the funeral parlor. We started down the hallway to collect our things.

But I couldn’t leave. I wasn’t ready. I went back into the room. There was my Dad. His body was completely still. I touched his hand. It was cold. I sat. I touched his hand again. I tried to get up and leave. I decided to stay. I looked at his face. His life was gone. Twenty It’s Saturday morning. My Dad passed away last night. My sleeping was restless. Every time I woke, my first thought was, my Dad is gone.

I’m driving along the north side of the Rock Lake in Lake Mills. I see the wide open lake surrounded by trees. Shanty town – the collection of fishing shanties is alive and well, but not for long. Spring is near.

My Dad liked to fish.

The world is not the same now that my Dad is gone.

I am standing near home My Dad walks over to me. He wants to plate on this hot, summer help me hit the ball with the bat, since I’ve day. Out in the field stand already missed it five times. The bat, ball a few of my cousins, and glove have belonged to my Dad for a aunts and uncles long time. They look really old. The bat is covering the field for wood with a really dark stain and black the baseball game. tape on the grip. It’s really heavy. His glove Our field is usually lies flat on the ground next to us. It looks filled with tall grass, but for the family picnic hand sewn. The leather is dark and pillowy. and baseball game, my Dad has mowed it. To I can see padding on the inside. It’s simply the right of the field is the road lined by barbed made with very little markings. The ball is wire fence, oak trees and farmer’s fields. very smooth and large. It’s not a baseball Behind the outfield is the creek where I play. and larger than most softballs I’ve seen. It’s To the left is a weeping willow tree and the tan and has stitches on it. square metal lid to the well. The grass under my feet is course and hard to walk on. It’s hot and dry out. Very hot. The sun is beating down on us as we sweat while standing still.

My Dad throws the ball to the pitcher, then Here comes the pitch. We tap it into the field. stands behind me. He lets me grab the I don’t know how I would have turned the heavy bat and says “choke up” as he moves heavy bat fast enough without his help. We my hands close to the middle, past the grip. drop the bat and I know what to do now. I run He places one of his hands above my right as fast as I can to first base. My Uncle gently hand and one below my left. His hands are taps my back with the soft ball. It’s ok. At least huge and his fingers long. At 6’ 3” he towers I hit it. over me, even though he bends at the waist to reach my level. He has me take a couple practice swings with him. “Nice and level.” He says. “Keep your eye on the ball.” What did that mean? I’m sitting on my bed in my room. To my I’m thinking about how my Dad was a left is a small nightstand and lamp. To my spiritual man. He was Catholic his whole right are some book shelves filled with my life and believed that by doing good and art history books from college, shadow box following rules, he would go to heaven. He frames filled with my mom’s poetry books, knew that as his life ended, it was important my children’s reading books that they read that a priest give him last rights. when they were two and photo albums. In front of me is my dresser and mirror. The Is the mind really that powerful? Did he walls are painted teal blue. choose to die right after the prayers were said? I’ve heard before, that a person in this I’m alone, except when my children walk in kind of situation, will not die until they are looking for something. Billy wants to borrow ready. Several of the staff (chaplain, social my charger because he left his at a friends. worker, nurses) said that it’s good to let the Bailey is trying to pick an outfit for the wake patient know that it’s ok to let go. Does the and funeral and asks what I have in black body reach a point where breathing is no shirts. I’m sure they are too big. longer involuntary, so that a person can just stop? Or was it his heart that quit when his mind was satisfied?

I suppose I could google it, but I’m tired. I am thirty-eight years old and working in where the half circle barn used to be. the garden with my father. It’s early spring Further left and north are two houses. and a little cool out. We are going to plant The older house is the house I grew up in. 100 asparagus plants today. My Dad asked if I My parents built the newer house 15 years wanted to help and I thought it would be cool to ago. Between the garden and the house is a learn how. My Dad always does his research - swamp area with cattails. The swamp pools so I’m sure he’ll plant it correctly. water which feeds into the culvert and crosses under the road, and joins the creek In front of me lies a 40 foot ditch about 16 where I used to play. inches deep which my father had formed. He straddles it now, using his hoe to build a small mountain of dirt down the middle. To the left is his fenced in garden where he grows tomatoes, beans, broccoli, peppers and squash. A row of evergreens line the right side. I remember when my Dad planted the tiny one foot evergreens. Now they are 15-20 feet tall. Past the garden is an empty lot I grab a hoe and mimic what my father is When all but ten are planted, we cover them doing. When complete, we sprinkle the with dirt. But we don’t level the dirt over entire ditch with some fertilizer, then the ditch. We leave it a few inches unfilled. water all the way down, gently, so we don’t Dad says that we need to come back in a disturb the mound. My dad pulls the lid off few weeks and fill it in, when we start to see the 3x2x2 foot cardboard box revealing the growth. roots layered in paper. My Dad takes one in his large hands and gently parts the roots The ten plants were extra and I took them with his long fingers. The roots are whitish home. I dug a hole and put them in, not tan with some dirt and meet at the center measuring or fertilizing. It’s been ten years with a few nubs of growth going in the and I still get only 3-5 stalks a season. My opposite direction of the roots. My Dad slowly Dad’s patch is thriving. We have enough explains how to handle the roots gently, then for everyone. I should have followed his spread them over the left and right side of directions. the peak formed in the ditch, placing the new nubs up. He’s already estimated the distance that they should be planted apart each other and uses a small handled shovel as a measure to keep the distance consistent. I’m sitting on a folding chair in the atrium of To my right are four rows of chairs filled the Catholic church. In front of me, sits my with people arranged in half circle, 15 long, mother, cousins, and daughter. Beyond them, surrounding my Dad’s casket. The priest ten feet past the tile floors, lies my Dad’s body is reading the rosary. I hear him start the in his coffin. His thin hands are folded across Our Father. The people join him and finish his stomach and my nieces have laid paper it. Going through the rosary, he reads a flowers near them. Many bouquets of flowers sequence of prayers over and over again. surround my Dad. To the left are the doors During this monotonous repeating of prayer, to the main room where the funeral will be my mind drifts. I look at my sister across the tomorrow. I dread going to the funeral and way. Her eyes are read and makeup gone. I have asked a few people if it would be wrong look at my mom. Same thing. for me to sit in the back row because I think I’ll puke. So many people came tonight. So many cried. But not me. Why? Are some brains strong than others at blocking out emotions? Of course. But something is going on here. It’s not just strength. Is there a part of my brain that is blocking it out? Protecting me? Putting a shield over the emotional part that hurts? Or am I just being sensible. He was ready. But here’s another thought. My Dad was very He lived a full life. I have been retold over strong and practical. I’m the same. I can be and over today that he lived a full life by that way today. I will be strong through the the video my cousin made of my Dad’s day and help my mom and sisters. I will cry childhood, the poster boards showing tonight. pictures of my Dad’s life, the many visitors talking about great times and a conversation I had with my Dad a couple years ago about how he lived a full life and how he feels lucky to have lived as long as he did. I am eight years old and swinging on the My Dad walks by, following the tire tracks swing set. The swing set is a simple, old one to the barn, opens the barn door, and gets made of heavy pipes, chains for the two in the car. I hear the car start up. It’s a quiet swings and wooden seats. As I swing and put hum compared to the squeaky rhythm my feet in the air, I see the blue sky. It’s sunny of the swing set chains. and hot out.

When I swing back down, I see the barn across the yard with the tire tracks leading to the old wood door. I stop for a while and turn in circles, creating tension in the chains. As I turn, I see my Dad’s garden, the clothes line, the house, driveway, sandbox and rock pile. I turn slowly, until I can’t turn any more, then release and spin in the opposite direction. I start swinging again when I notice the He’s run some of them over, I’m certain of kittens in the path of the car. My Dad is it. He continues on his way, not knowing backing up slowly, but there isn’t enough what he’s done. When he’s past the swing time for me to make a difference. I try to yell set, I run over to the tracks. Maybe they are stop, but nothing comes out. ok. Maybe I can help them. The first one is a flat, mash of fur. There is no life. It’s squashed in to a flat circle, no larger than the tire tracks. Nothing is visible: no eyes, paws, tail - just fur. I look further down the tracks – another one, just the same. I’m 13 year old and sitting on a one-hundred prayer for someone. I swear, the candles year old, hard wooden pew in the Catholic add to the heat and stuffiness of this Church. Below me is a kneeling bar that folds crowded room. up and down. My family sits in the row with me. There are three rows ahead and thirty The monotonous prayer goes on and on as I rows behind in this narrow section of the try to breath. My head feels fuzzy. Time for room. To the right is the larger, main section, communion. The rows empty in an orderly three times as large. All seats are filled on this fashion. I get near the person passing out hot summer day. communion and I don’t feel well. My vision disappears. Next thing I know, I’m lying on To the left are the only open windows. They the floor in the hall. My family tells me that open vertically only two inches with a latch. I walked like a drunk in front of all these You can’t see out because it’s stained glass. To people, flew threw the double doors, and the front is a candle stand with one-hundred collapsed. I feel a bump on my head as my dad small candles where you an make a wish or and another man drag me outside for air.

I am ten years old and riding the bus a slight hill as we get close. Then we cross over home from school. It takes about the bridge to the creek. But today, something forty-five minutes. We go out in the goes horribly wrong. The bus goes off the bridge country dropping off other kids first. and falls, and falls. I’m falling and my stomach I’m near the end of the route, only is going up into my ribs making me sick as I one-half mile from town. The hold my breath. We’re all going to die when we bus is yellow with it’s flashers hit bottom. on both ends. The seats run two to a row, about three feet wide Then I wake from my dream. It’s a dream I’ve each with a narrow isle, covered with non-slip had over and over. Why? The creek bridge is rubber mat. There is a loud hum from the bus only ten feet from road to water. If the bus did engine and chatter from the remaining ten go over, it would be more of a quick thump. children. The windows are open on this spring Sure the bridge has no guard rails, but it’s not day and the wind creates more noise. We stop really a threat. Maybe I worry because we at Brian’s house and drop off him and his sister practice emergency evacuations out the back and brothers. I peak at the naked dummy in door of the bus every year. the barn window, which someone has painted nipples and pubic hair on. We then take a right, a left, and straight ahead to my house. There’s I am about eight years old, standing in the So today we are walking and playing in the driveway with my older sister Chris. The snow as we wait. There’s the bus – I see it driveway is long and crooked and normally coming. I always get a little nervous getting has gravel tracks, but today, it’s covered on the bus because you don’t know if you with a lot of snow. Down by the road, the are going to trip in front of someone or have snowplows have dumped huge piles of snow. the bus driver yell at you. So I line up at the Across the street is a very large oak. The road end of the driveway and yell “come on” to runs from out in the country on the left to my sister who walks in the snow over the city on the right. It’s a narrow country the ditch. She starts to make her road with no curb. We are waiting for the bus. way over, when all of a sudden, she It’s early morning with the sun just coming lifts her foot and there’s no boot. It’s up behind us. The first sign of the bus will stuck in the deep snow of the ditch. be the red flashers about a mile down the My heart beats faster. I run over to road at the neighbors. We most always help. Her sock and everything is stand there waiting and goofing off as she stands on one good around unless we are late. foot. I dig, pull the boot out and give her the look. It’s Easter Sunday and I’m driving to my This is the new church. It has one large mom’s house. I pass the house I grew up in, room and we sit in back near the baptism which is next door to the new house. I see the fountain. In front is the large alter with the oak at the end of the driveway was cut down. wood cross and Jesus from the old church. I remember that tree from the time that I was The ceilings are really high with large wood waiting for the bus or riding my bike in the arches supporting them. I recognize stained driveway. I turn left to reach the driveway glass form the old church, reformatted to of the new house. On the right is the creek fit the new gothic windows. To the left are where I played as a kid. On the left is the more stained glass windows and the wood open field where I gardened with my Dad, and statue of Mary from the old church. The new played baseball with his old bat, glove and ball. benches have cushions and are angled to be more comfortable. I hear the air blowing and I pick up my Mom and am take her to church. look at the vents –something they didn’t have Bailey, my daughter, is with us. We sit in the in the old church where I passed out. long pew with many of my family members. My nephew is being baptized. This was planned long before my father died. We just thought he’d be here. The people have been quieted down and the He really believed that doing good deeds priest has been talking for a while. He was at and being kind to others would get him to hospice with us and then at the funeral. He heaven. This was one of those good deeds – seems to say the right thing at the right time. painting the church.

But today, I can’t focus on what he’s saying. I’m thinking about how two and a half years Instead, I think about the stories I was told ago, he was diagnosed with cancer. I was of how my Dad painted the high walls in the with him when we sat in the doctors office for church while in a mechanical bucket. I look hours. And the nurse came in and said they up and envision him, with his long legs, long think it’s bone cancer. And we waited for arms and long fingers painting and reaching hours for more results. My dad already had where others can’t. I’m visualizing my Dad bladder cancer three years before. He didn’t not needing a lift bucket to reach forty feet want to go through it again. It’s just him and up. He’s so big. He’s so big to me. And he’s so I in the room. And he starts talking about connected to his spirituality. how he wants to talk his life: fumes in the garage? Pills? Drive the car off a cliff? And he cries. My Dad never cries. And we sit there... waiting... and it’s dreadful. On top of that, the night before, I had kicked I’m glad my Dad believe in his God. It my husband out of the house for the last comforts me to know that he believed he time. I found two large vodka bottles in his was going to heaven. And he let go of life, company van, and it was then I realized he only after he battled cancer, until he couldn’t was never going to stop drinking. And two battle any more. days later, my soon to be ex husband tells me he wants to take his life because he has no reason to live now that he has lost his family.

So if there is a god, why does he let people have cancer twice and let people suffer from alcoholism to the point where they no longer want to live?

You are sitting on the hard metal seat of enough to stop water from spraying up your a two wheeled bike. The driveway is long back. You hear the familiar sound of tires and ends at the street. It’s mostly dirt with pushing through the gravel and then your some gravel. Grass grows on both sides and sister telling you it’s her turn now. down the middle. It’s spring time, so some of the lower areas are filled with water which Sometimes you put your feet down to stop reflects the blue sky and clouds. the bike, and you’re going too fast. The dirt and gravel grab your feet and turns them You ride the bike carefully, because there are backwards. Sometimes one foot gets stuck a lot of obstacles. To the left is a slight ditch. and sends you spinning until you tip over. The pools of water hide bumps. And biggest of all, there are no breaks. When you want Today, you glide in easy to stop peddling, the chain and peddles still and softly slow rotate because they are directly connected to to a stop. the wheels. It’s a very odd, simple bike mostly made of metal. The chipped paint is a dark red, except for some white tips painted on the fenders. The fenders are short. Not long

written and illustrated by Melanie Wallace memoirs of my life with my family printed with an epson 1280 on handmade paper with the font foro light