Down the Block

The first time that I realized that Valentine's day did not have to be so much about romance and boy-girl stuff was the year that my Dad came home with three bouquets of roses. One for my mother and one for my little sister and I. My mom's were big, fat, typical roses that you'd expect. My sister and I each got a bunch of tiny, baby sized roses. One of us got pink ones and one of us got white ones. I don't remember who got which but I was elated. I remember, and regret now, that in my snide adolescence I made some remark about how they were so small. I don't know why I did it--that was my favorite part. I don't think that my dad had any way of knowing that tiny gesture completely cured the jealousy that came about around that time of year in school when boys and girls gave one another chocolate or sent each other flowers and I felt particularly left out. He did a significant thing for me.

Today, ten years ago, I was in a hospital room with him. We'd been fed his leukemia diagnosis less than two weeks ago and we were all still trying to choke it down. My mother and I had more or less moved to Wichita to be with him. My little brother and sister were young and still needed some stability so they stayed with our pastor's family and got a lot of distraction and non-cancer related interaction. I don't remember if my dad had made it down to the gift shop or if he'd had my mom pick up a card on his behalf but the one he handed to me was beautiful. It wasn't your typical hearts and doilies and ribbons. It featured a print… maybe the White Rabbit running from the Queen of Hearts? I think that might have been it. It was an exceptionally dark but gorgeous card. I remember being surprised that he'd been able to keep a secret from me in this situation where the three of us spent every waking minute together in a tiny room and he could barely leave the bed. I remember that when he handed me the card, he looked at me and asked, "You know that I could die, right?" And I nodded and said, "Yes. I do know that. But I don't know what that means so I'm not scared." And he said, "Me too."

There was a little token inside. Just one of those little cheap coins with an angel stamped into it. I'd seen them in the gift shop in a basket next to the register. I've lost the card (another story for another day if you're ever in the mood) but to my own surprise I still have that little coin that I carry with me everywhere I go.