I wonder if he'll get this.

I was thinking about my Dad for the third or fourth time today. I was thinking about my Dad in this time of the year. This time when cold comes and strips the land to barren. I was thinking about my Dad in this season of deep grieving. It is a time in the year when I am in the West, the time of darkness, solitude, pulling in upon myself for the purpose of healing. This also tends to be a season of upheaval. A recurring nightmare arises, I steel myself against the blow, dig my feet deeper and pray that this time I will stay standing.

I was thinking of my Dad as I drive towards home on a dark highway, lines of light on the road ahead, my grown son asleep in the seat next to mine. I listen for his slow steady breathing and I remember.

I remember a time, on a dark highway, my Dad holding steady the wheel of his Chevy Silverado. His strength guiding us between the lines on pavement. It is snowing, not enough to stick, but enough to draw my eyes to the lines of frozen white coming forth and sliding past. We are in a globe of floating, mesmerizing, whiteness. The heater vent fills the cab with warmth as a Country station plays on the radio. My Dad sings along, hums a few bars, adds his own words. I smile in silence. I don’t remember where we are, I just know we are all headed home. There are other kids snoozing in the back and my small son asleep on the seat between us. I listen to my Dad sing and I listen for the slow steady breathing of my own precious child.

I was thinking of my Dad and that peaceful time, I was thinking that if only I had known. If I had known of the loss and anguish that lay wait for us. If only I had known…I would have asked. I would have asked him all the questions that are left unanswered. They come and wait on my tongue as I no longer have the strength to voice them. If only I had known, I would have told him I can’t possibly survive this loss without him. I would have said I am not ready. I was not ready then and I am not ready now. I would have reached across the seat and told him of my love and gratitude. I would have held his hand. I would have joined him in his song. If only I had known.

Now as I steady the wheel and drive towards home, towards my deep grief and fear, towards uncertainty, the radio plays softly but I do not sing along. I watch the lines of light come towards me and slide past. I guide us between the lines on pavement, and in complete dark solitude, I think of my Dad. If only I had known…