Day 98

The night before Father’s Day Dad always asked with a shy smile, “Are you making me waffles tomorrow?” And when I said yes, he took out the waffle iron, the mixing bowl, and a measuring cup so that when I got up everything was ready for me to start cooking. This morning, the counter was empty. There will be no waffles. No Dad. I miss him so much.

Last night may have been my worst night of sleep since Dad died. I couldn’t fall asleep. I tossed and turned trying to figure out how we ended up in this awful reality. I don’t think I dozed off until nearly four o’clock, and then I had a short but awful dream. Dad was sitting at the edge of my bed, and when my eyes blinked open, he smiled and said, “I had to go. If I hadn’t you wouldn’t be able to move on. You wouldn’t find what you need.” How terrible is that? I would have done anything to keep him here with me, with my son. Why would he say that, even in a dream?

This morning I called Mom to see how she is holding up. She’s very sad. Time is supposed heal. Time is supposed to give people strength. But over time Mom seems to be sinking deeper and deeper into depression and anxiety. My brother is with her, but he’ll be leaving early tomorrow to head up to Cape Cod. She desperately wants me to move in with her, but a move to Queens just isn’t possible, not full time. I’ve begged her to move to New Jersey, to be close to me so that I can take better care of her, but she feels that moving out of her city house would be a betrayal of Dad. I don’t think it would be. I think Dad would want her to move closer to me. He’d want her to be closer to her grandson. But every time I bring it up she says, “We never talked about what we should do if he died. It happened so fast. He thought he’d be here a lot longer.” We all did.

My plan for today was to go to the beach early so that we could leave early and head into Greenport. I thought it would be nice to take my son out to dinner. He was excited about the idea, until we got to the beach and he was having such a good time he asked if we could stay longer. I said we could, but then it would get too late to go out for dinner. He smiled, and said, “That’s okay. We can get McDonalds instead. I think Grandpa would like that. He’d be happy if you got me McDonalds to remember him.” How could I say no? Especially since he was probably right.

We went to the treasure beach again. It’s the only beach my son now wants to go to. It’s my favorite beach on the North Fork. I think it was Dad’s as well, so I’m happy to take my son. We had fun catching minnows together. I am seriously surprised that at my age I’m still agile and quick enough to do it. I’m also surprised at how much enjoyment my son gets out of studying the sea life. Yesterday, when he got home, he took out his tablet and googled various things we saw at the beach. Who needs school when there is a world to explore and your mother and google to answer all your questions? 

We were across the inlet when my son’s ears picked up the sound of the ice cream truck. He dove into the water and swam furiously to the other side. I followed. I wasn’t going to say no to ice cream. I wanted it as badly as my son did. We each got a chocolate shake, and we sat in the shade of the umbrella while we drank them. It was the only time all day, we sat where we set up.

The beach was crowded, but not so much so that social distancing was impossible. However, in another week or two that might be the case. There were a few large groups of people that sat together, and it was obvious they weren’t from the same household. I guess when you haven’t lost someone you love, and you haven’t witnessed the horrible effects of the virus you’re more willing to take risks. If you haven’t lived it, you don’t get how absolutely devastating and life altering it can be.