A Tulip on the Gulf of Mexico (505 hits)
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Submitted by Esso (View user info) at 2004-04-16 09:16:32 EDT
Today my father died. Not today today. Not two thousand and four years After the Death of Christ. My father died on the fifteenth of April in the year 2000. Heart failure. He was young. I was twenty-three, he was forty-three. Some people want to talk age when they talk death, but really, who gives a shit. Death is hard on those left behind, no matter how much time the deceased spent on Earth.
I'm a different man now. In 2000 I was working in title insurance. I was a rising star in the company. I worked my ass off to pay the bills, to buy the beer, to prove to myself that I didn't need to finish college. I had my life under control. What ever Dad wanted, I didn't need it.
In the spring of the new millennium, I was caught in the party cycle. Work Monday through Friday, party all weekend, recover Sunday night. It worked for me and I worked for it. I was at my cousin's house that warm evening, drinking beer and smoking the green. Everything was as planned when suddenly cousin Jay's phone rang. He and his wife never pick up the phone. The answering machine did most the talking.
"This is Jay and Sarah. Leave a message." Beep.
"This is Becky. Ben this is your mom. Please call me..."
Jay picked up the phone.
"Hi Aunt Becky! Yeah. He's here....What?"
I watched him walk into the kitchen, slightly annoyed that my mother would interrupt a party to most likely ask me something inane. I guzzled more Coors Lite and laughed at whatever joke someone had told. Jay came back from the kitchen with the phone held out to guess who? Me.
"Hi Mom."
"Hi Ben. You should come home right now."
"Why? What do you need?"
"Nothing. Ben, you need to come home right now. This is important."
"Tell me why."
"No. I'll tell you when you get here. Now please, Ben, come home."
"Fine."
I hit the End button on the cordless phone and stared back at everyone staring at me. I was having a blast at this get-together. Cases of beer in the garage fridge and all the kind bud I could smoke. Things were going fine. I didn't want to leave.
"I'll be right back. Mom needs at me at home, I guess."
I finished my Silver Bullet and jumped in my car. The drinking had just begun, so I was
fine on the road. My only concern was the way my mother had asked me to return home. I didn't make sense for her to just make me leave anyone's house. Suddenly, something flashed through my mind.
"Dad's dead."
No. That couldn't be. I had just talked to him a month ago. With him living up in Washington our contact had become limited, but he had never told me anything about him being sick. Except for that indigestion he couldn't get rid of. Why the hell did I think something like that?
I parked in front of the house and walked in with my keys still in my hand. I was ready to turn and leave as soon as my mother and I had our discussion. I stood behind the couch and saw Aunt Brenda, my stepfather, and Mom sitting in the living room. All looked somber. Mom looked me in the eyes.
"Ben. There's no other way to say this. I'm sorry. Your dad died."
"What?" My breathing had stopped.
"Ben, I'm sorry. Your dad passed few hours ago. Your stepmom called to let you know. I love you. I'm sorry."
I fell to my knees and cried.
The three of them tried to comfort me, but I was beyond the simple comforts of hugs, kisses and I-Love-You's. I cried. I cried and cried and cried. The tears poured from my eyes and the sobs tore at my throat until I couldn't breath. My dad had died.
It wasn't real to me. Not then. Even when I told my company why I was taking two weeks off. Even when the plane landed in Seattle. Even when I saw my stepmother and sisters. This was not happening. I would see my father.
No, it wasn't real to me until the night we set up the church for the service the next day. I walked into the chapel and saw all the flowers, all the seats, and the podium. There, attached to the front of the podium was a blown-up picture of my father from a few years before. I stared hard at the picture and realized that this was the only way I'd see him from now on. In photographs, videos, my memories. I could only see him in the past. There would never be anything new to remember about Tom Rojek.
The day after the service my sisters, my stepmom and I spread Dad's ashes around a tree that sets upon a cliff above the Puget Sound in Washington Park. It was his favorite place to be. I threw what ashes were left into the waters below because I knew that he loved the coast. I said a small prayer and then I was driven to my friend's house where I spent the rest of my time off in drunken stupor.
I quit First American Title and finished college. The one thing I could do that made Dad proud was write. It's not very lucrative with my limited abilities, but I've been able to travel and see those places to which my father had told me he wished to go. I made it back to Washington once to see the tree. That was almost a year later. I stared out at the water and islands and told him how I was doing. I haven't been back and done anything in his rememberance since. Until this year.
The last time my father and I talked he had asked me to do one thing: break the Rojek curse. What he called a curse was just a cycle. His father was distant, both towards his children and wife. He was a financial supporter and disciplinarian, nothing else. My dad was slightly distant. He took time out with his kids, but he felt his main role was bringing in the money and punishing us for disobeying. He wanted me to reach for perfection. He wanted his son to bring home the bread, dole out the necessary punishments, and be emotionally giving to his future family.
I am now with the woman I want to marry. She has a two year old son. Both of them are wonderful and deserve nothing but the best. I am trying to give them that. Every time I speak to my new son, I think of my father and what he asked of me. I am trying for that balance between teacher and friend. It is scary and hard business, this child raising thing. But I am trying.
Every time I think about what to do when my kid gets into regular two year old scenarios, I think of Dad. So today, I had to do something for him. I felt a longing in my heart to say hello again, to say goodbye. I knew what I had to do. It didn't involve going home. It didn't involve crying over a picture. It only involved a tulip and the Gulf of Mexico.
Tom Rojek's favorite flower was the tulip. Skagit County in northern Washington is world renowned for it's tulips. It is second only to Holland for bulb production. That is where Dad learned to love the beauty and simplicity of the tulip bud. When the annual Tulip Festival came about, he would be out in the fields taking pictures of the fields and looking for new bulbs to buy. His only son wouldn't join him for he found the Festival season to be too feminine for his tastes. It's funny, because now his favorite flower (not that he had one before) is the tulip.
Today I bought a red tulip for my dad. No greenery to spruce it up. No water cup to keep it fresh. Just one red tulip at $2.50, thank you very much. I handed it to my girl as walked back to the car. I had been feeling fine all week, soaking up the Florida sunshine, running circles with the boy. At this moment, however, I felt tired. This was going to be harder than I thought, but, as I told my girl, I had to do it. It felt necessary.
We drove out to an old, deserted bridge that still reaches out halfway into a waterway between the mainland and a peninsula. I took the flower from her and we held hands as we walked upon the cracked and potholed blacktop of the former waterway crossing. I nodded hello to an old fisherman as we passed, but besides that, there wasn't anything said. We stopped where the bridge ended over the river and we leaned up against the rail.
"All I wanted to do was make him proud, Tara. That's why I finished school. He always wished he had done it."
"I know."
"I'm glad I did. I got to see most the world. I ended up here, where I got to meet you. I don't' know. I guess I'm still worried about making him proud."
"Why?"
"He asked me to break the Rojek curse. Basically, he wanted me to be a better husband than he was, a better father. Tara, I'm trying to be perfect."
"Ben, nobody's perfect. But you're doing great. I'm sure he's proud."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah."
"I love you."
It may sound funny, but I was saying that both to Dad and to Tara.
I reached out over the water with the tulip in hand. I didn't want to let go. For some reason it felt like letting my grief go. Sometimes it's scary to let go of the pain.
The red tulip slipped from my hand and floated down onto the water.
Tara and I both leaned over the railing to watch the symbolic flower float away. I may have thrown his ashes into the Puget Sound, but eventually all waters flow together. My father dies, I finish college, I meet Tara. Everything leads to something.
Tara leaned her head upon my shoulder and I still stared at the tulip. It rose up and down upon the shallow waves and for a moment it seemed as if the bright red flower was floating slightly above the green waters. Perhaps it had. Perhaps my father had reached out and touched the soft petals of his favorite flora. Perhaps in that in moment he was saying goodbye. I hoped so.
I hope so.
I raised my head and held Tara close to me. We turned and stepped off towards the car. She turned her head to look back at the tulip at the same time as I turned to look at her. Our noses bumped. I smiled, she smiled, and we kissed. Everything leads to something.
User Reviews
Submitted by CunningVision (user info) at 2004-04-20 17:22:32 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
I came back to this story again. It helps to know someone else feels like this. Thanks man.
Submitted by Disektor (user info) at 2004-04-18 03:15:56 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Didn't see this until today, but I disagree with you, you're one hell of a writer.
Obviously this type of post won't get as many hits because it's not "funny" but this is one of the few good posts I have ever seen on this site.
I'm sorry for your loss, and I hope the people who saw this whos fathers are still alive realize how truly lucky they are to have a father, even if they don't always get along.
I'm glad you found happiness, and I'm also glad to see that you changed your life around into something better. I'm only 18, and I know lots of kids who spend their time drinking, partying, and not doing what they are capable of. It's nice to see that you got out of that lifestyle.
Best of luck to you in life..
Submitted by esso_merda (user info) at 2004-04-18 02:53:41 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
Thanks man.
Submitted by Scientifik (user info) at 2004-04-17 16:38:24 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Esso its not about hits bro, its about connection, considering uber is becoming more shit than nonshit just because something gets alot of attention doesn't mean its good.
My dad died when I was six years old, and I have almost no pictures of him, shit like that is difficult to deal with, but I feel like I'm not the only person in the world when I read something like this.
Submitted by gabby <jkinghammer.at.hotmail.com> at 2004-04-17 03:36:22 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Very touching, I can relate. My dad died Feburary 28th, 2004... so for me I know how you feel.
Submitted by CunningVision (user info) at 2004-04-17 03:19:38 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Maybe you need a better title? Don't worry. I write shit and no one reads it either. It's all about the title.
Submitted by esso_merda (user info) at 2004-04-17 03:14:11 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
What the fuck? I can not believe that some posts ( e.g. http://www.ubersite.com/m/30554 ) get a plethora of hits and replies, but something that I worked hard on gets shit. Thanks to everyone who took the time to read this and give me feedback, but I can't fucking believe what passes for entertainment on this site. Damn.
Submitted by CunningVision (user info) at 2004-04-16 16:17:22 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
I cannot believe my crap post has more reviews than this. Sorry, sir. People just love to hate.
Submitted by cellar_door (user info) at 2004-04-16 13:13:57 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
"Navin? Do want to go out there and sing some blues?"
"No, Momma. There's just something about those songs. They depress me."
Momma and Navin, "The Jerk"
Submitted by JMG114 (user info) at 2004-04-16 10:34:59 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
No comment.
Submitted by esso_merda (user info) at 2004-04-16 10:25:36 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
"We stopped where the bridge ended over the river and we leaned up against the rail."
River should read water.
Submitted by Magicaddict (user info) at 2004-04-16 09:49:01 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
That was good - I was able to imagine myself in your place and it wasn't a nice feeling. Really well done.
Submitted by NoiseWithinSilence (user info) at 2004-04-16 09:26:59 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
That was one of the best posts Ive read. Really touching. May your father RIP, always remember though Entropy, its hard to admit but nothing lasts forever.
Submitted by JBOMB (user info) at 2004-04-16 09:19:13 EDT (#)
Ranking: -2
I burnt (or is that burned) my knuckle on a frying pan today. Pus has been bubbling from the hole where I bit away the burnt skin away.