Death In The Family

It's dark here. Wherever here is? I can't seem to get my bearings. The strange thing is, it's not an eerie dark, but rather a comforting dark. I decide to try walking around. After walking for about ten minutes I begin to get frightened. I've been walking, but I'm not sure if I've been going anywhere. I decide to put my fears aside and continue walking. After walking again for an unknown amount of time the fear returns to me. I sit down in frustration, wrapping my arms around my crossed legs and rock myself back and forth. Not knowing what to do I close my eyes tight and then open them almost as quickly as I'd closed them. It didn't help any, though. I was hoping my eyes would adjust to the dark, but it didn't work. I've never been a quitter, so I decide to stop sulking and get up and try something else. Standing in one spot I turn in a circle, carefully scanning the dark. My hope of noticing something in the dark fails. Still I won't give up, so I try turning again. I'm glad I do, because I notice a white light in the distance about the size of my fingernail. As I walk toward the light I begin to get discouraged, as it doesn't seem to be getting any closer. Once again I put my fear and frustration aside and continued on. Finally the light begins to get brighter and larger. Before I know it, it has grown to the size of a cow. Without even considering the possibility I somehow instantly know I'm in a dream. Even though something informs me it's a dream I have trouble accepting it. I've been in dreams that felt real before, but this dream feels realer than real. I continue on toward the light. Within three or four more steps I'm in the bright white light. I now have a new problem.
The light surrounds me. Now it's so bright I can't see anything in the light. I figure I'll have to go through the entire process again, only this time trying to find a darker image as I turn in place. However much to my delight, the light begins to fade and I can see images forming before me. I focus on the image that appears to be two boys playing. As the image clears I realize I'm right. It is two boys playing. It is me at age six. My younger self is playing a silly game with my brother who is four. I'm standing in my driveway watching my own past. Seeing my brother and my younger self playing this particular game I instantly know what event in my history I'm watching, as a tear trickles down my cheek. It is the day my father died.
A brief smile rises to my face as I remember the fun my brother and I had been having. My smile goes away the moment I see my mother and grandmother come running out the door. My one tear turns into many, as this is the first time I've seen my grandmother in three years. I'd lost my grandmother to cancer three years prior to tonight's dream.
I watch as my mother hurries us into the car screaming, "hurry! Your father and grandfather have been in an accident.
As I float alongside the car I receive a brief reprise of my sadness as I notice that even in my mother's crazed hurry she was still doing the speed limit. I'm not sure if it was my sub-conscience remembering or if it was just me knowing how my mother is in the present. (She was a stickler for the law. She never sped.) I was glad to have the smile although brief. The car pulled into the hospital parking lot. My mother is talking to one of the nurses as my grandmother holds my brother and myself off to the side. The nurse directs my mother to a private waiting room. As I walk toward the room to join them I notice a faint smell of ammonia. I look around the public waiting room and see an orderly mopping the halls. It amazes me how much I remembered, being as young as I was that day. I feel like a ghost as I walk through the wall into the private waiting room. There is my brother without a care in the world as he draws on the chalkboard. I'm sitting in my mother's lap as she bobs her knee up and down. I could tell by the dim look on my younger face that I already know my father is dead. My younger self's eyes sag and my lips are drawn tight and grim. I didn't realize I'd already known until this very moment. Several minutes pass and then two police officers come into the room. The second officer that enters the room guides my brother and my younger self out of the room. I start to follow, but then decided to stay in the room. I already know what is going to take place out in the public waiting room.
The police officer speaks two simple words, "Mrs. Galino, and my mother began to cry, because she already knows her husband is dead. My grandmother joins in with her. I'm also crying as I witness something I'm not sure is right. I wasn't in that room as a child, so all I know about it is what I was told years later. The police officer hangs his head low, then turns and walks out the door. Mysteriously my dream rewinds itself. I am once again seeing the second police officer guiding my brother and me out the door. This time I follow.
The police officer, my brother, and my younger self sit down in a group of chairs. I watch myself and it amazes me to see in my younger face that I know what the police officer is doing. He was stalling while the other officer gives my mother the bad news. I take my focus off of myself and focus on my brother who has no idea what is happening.
"I wuz here in a ambuwanse. My brother says.
"Really? What for? The police officer asks.
"Granma car got hit.
I remember it exactly. Even the way my brother talked at four years old. I focus back on myself to see that I wasn't really paying that much attention to the police officer and my brother. I am looking back toward the private waiting room. The first police officer comes out of the room and walks us back into the room. I follow closely behind.
My mother and grandmother are crying hysterically. My brother goes to my mother and sits on her lap. Me being light-hearted and comical sits on my grandmother's lap and asks, "What's going on? Why all the blubberin?
"How do we tell them? My grandmother says.
"Tell us what? I ask.
"Kids¦ kids, your father is¦ your father's dead. My mother answers.
I start crying immediately as I cling to my grandmother's neck. My brother climbs down from my mother's lap and goes over to the chalkboard and begins drawing. I watch my brother pull a chair over to the chalkboard, stand on it, and continue drawing on the board. I begin to get angry with my brother just as my younger self says, "Look at him. He doesn't even care.
"Get down from there and come here. My mother says.
My brother comes to her and for the first time in my life I realize that he just didn't know what to do with himself. I can see that he wanted to cry, but he didn't seem to know how. His face hung low and he looked like he was going to, but nothing. He just sits on my mother's lap and stares at the floor. An unknown amount of time passes. The next thing that happens a nurse walks into the room. She tells my mother that she can see my father's body if she wants to, but warns her that his face is hardly there. She stands up.
"I want to go too. I say.
"No honey you can't go. My mother says.
"I WANT TO GO! I yell as I jump up and down.
"You can't go sweety. My mother followed the nurse out the door as my grandmother holds me back from following.
"I WANT TO SEE MY FATHER! I yell as I wriggle in my grandmother's arms.
Watching these events unfold before my eyes I realize that this day is more significant than I've ever realized. Not only is this the day my father died, but it is also the day my mother and I begin to drift apart. At six years old I had resentment towards my mother. Later on that week she took away my right to go to my father's funeral. I've never forgiven her for that. I know everybody felt it was best for me at the time, but that doesn't change the way I felt or still feel today. She took something from me that can never be replaced.
As the door closes I do my impression of a ghost again as I walk through the wall. I follow my mother and the nurse down to the morgue. I can feel the dampness of the morgue and smell the death. It's a smell like no other smell I've ever smelt before. It is a cross between dead air and old tires. There is also a hint of burnt hair. I'll never forget that smell. The nurse points toward my father's body. My mother slowly walks toward it. I slowly follow behind her. She removes the sheet from his face and begins to lightly sob. I'm actually surprised to see my mother as calm as she is. I move in for a closer look. There's no easy way to describe what I'm seeing. Three quarters of his face is gone. It looks like it has been scraped off with a rusty spoon. What is left of his face is very bloody. His remaining eye is closed. His skull is crushed. I become angry. I have a nasty taste for blood in my mouth. I scream, "REVENGE!!! I want revenge! My first impulse is to search through the hospital for the man responsible for my family's sadness. I want to skin the son of a bitch that didn't have a scratch on him. The man that ran a red light. The man that spun my father's truck out of control, causing it to slam up against a tree. Killing my father instantly and breaking thirteen of my grandfather's ribs. Oh yes, lucky number thirteen. There were at least thirteen things I want to do to this man. This man who in the blink of an eye changed the lives of so many people. Yes I want revenge, but I finally calm myself. I know there is nothing I can do, because after all this is only a dream. As I look at my father's battered face I begin to wonder how close my interpretation of his face is. Although I'd never actually seen him after the accident, my mother described his face to me some years later. As my mother recovers his face she kisses him where his lips used to be and whispers, "I love you.
There is a bright flash and then I'm back in the public waiting room. The rest of my family is there. Both of my grandmothers, my mother, two of my aunts, me and my brother, and my grandfather. I watch as my grandfather tries to give me a hug, but I shun away from him. I can still feel the fear I felt that day when I saw my grandfather. I was scared of him, because his clothes were all bloody. To this day I still feel bad about shunning away from him at first. My tears return to me once more, because this is the first time I've seen my grandfather in six months. I lost my grandfather six months ago to loneliness. Yes he had my mother, and my brother and me, but he was never the same after my grandmother died. I watch as my younger self and my brother hug my grandfather at the same time.
It's dark again. I hear something in the distance though. I follow the sound and then in the distance I see the bright white light again. As I grow closer to the light I can hear an auction taking place. I immediately know what's next. The light engulfs me and then the images take form. I see my mother, my brother, and my younger self walking toward my father and grandfather. This is from earlier in the day. The last time I saw my father alive. The dream fast-forwards to my mother and father kissing each other goodbye.
"I want to go with daddy. I say holding onto my father's leg.
My father crouches down to me and hugs me. He says, "Next time. You come with me next time.
As I watch this I start to cry and I can't stop, because I know there is never going to be a next time. I watch my mother walk my brother and my younger self back to the car. She blows a kiss to my father, and then gets into the car. As I look at my mother's face in the distance I see something I'll never forget. She knows. I don't know how, but some part of her knows that that is the last time she will ever see my father alive again. Years later she told me she never kissed my father, like the way she kissed him that day. I look back at my father one last time before everything goes dark again.
I stand in the dark figuring I'll wake up any minute, but I'm not so lucky. An image of my father's face appears before me. I hear a loud screech, like fingers on a chalkboard combined with spinning tires. Then a loud crash and glass breaking. As I hear the glass break I watch my father's face shatter into a million pieces.
Oh my ¦ It's all suddenly clear to me. I remember now. Now I know why this dream feels so real. This isn't a dream at all. This is my life flashing before my eyes. I guess your entire life doesn't flash, just the most significant moment of your life. The tires screeching, the glass breaking, the loud crash, that was another car running into my car. My car spun and crashed into a tree. I'm dying. Barely five hundred feet from where my father died, I've received the same fate. I'm dyi¦
A bright white light engulfs me. I'm looking down at my dead body, hanging half out of my overturned car. Across the street is the other car. The driver is running across the street to check on me with a cell phone in his hand. I watch in awe. I have always known I would die alone in my car, but I never imagined it would be in almost the same place my father died. Minutes pass. An ambulance can be heard in the distance. The light gets brighter. I can no longer see the accident. A hand touches my shoulder. I shudder. I'm afraid to turn around. I know who it is, but I'm afraid of how he'll look.
"Welcome home son. A voice speaks.
I know this voice, so I turn. No longer afraid. I am right. He looks the same as the last time I'd seen him seventeen years ago. I start crying as he hugs me. We walk toward the light as it gets brighter and brighter. My time was short, but I've come full circle. I'm finally reunited with my father.