They say that your life passes in front of your eyes when you are about to die and I am in no hurry to find out if that is true, but I certainly believe it is likely because my daughter’s life passed in front of my eyes on Saturday night and it felt like I might never breathe again.
I had not planned to be there. In one of those “logical decisions that make no sense” choices I had intended to stay in DC based on the theory that returning home for just one day was not rational. Of course, it was not rational…most truly wondrous experiences in life are not rational.
I began questioning my decision early in the week and by Friday morning I was beating myself up pretty hard. Changing plans in mid stream is never easy, particularly when government travel rules and regulations apply, but I became obsessed that day with getting home. Between Shelby’s Prom and Connie’s Dad being in the hospital, I decided that I would find a way even if it meant renting a car and driving.
Fortunately, and the only time it occurred all week, our meeting ended early that day. That gave me time to get a new ticket issued for the late direct flight to Knoxville that evening and an early connecting flight back to DC on Sunday morning. I did not tell the family I was coming home, so when I knocked on the door at 11pm, I could hear the frantic scamper of feet and the screaming whisper of “someone’s at the door!” Surprised smiles, then hugs and kisses greeted me. It was great to be home.
Connie and I woke up early Saturday morning and tried to map out our day. Shelby had a hair appointment at 10am and was going with her best friend Christine to do nails at one. Connie and Christine would do Shelby’s makeup at 3:30pm, and we all had to be at the Farragut Park for pictures at 5:15pm. I may be a guy, but I’ve lived in a house full of women long enough to know not to ask too many questions or interfere with the hair, makeup and nails process. Just tell me when and where, and I’ll drop off, pick up or get out of the way.
Somewhere amidst all of the running around, we needed to go to the hospital in Knoxville, and I needed to do my laundry. Simple enough. There was a lot of daylight ahead of us. I put a load of laundry in the wash and we realized that we had enough time for the three of us to go to Panera Bread for coffee before she and Shelby drove to Maryville for the hair appointment.
It was a beautiful morning, with the promise of a spectacularly beautiful day, so we sat outside of Panera at the little black metal tables that wobble a bit, drank our coffee and I ate a good, but not very filling carrot-walnut muffin while they ate bagels and cream cheese. In the morning sun, with very little makeup and minimal attention to hair, I was struck by the amazing natural beauty of my wife and daughter. Some have to try very hard to draw attention to themselves, and it’s blatantly obvious that they do, but a rare few are born fortunate. I’m glad that all three of my girls received this special gift from their mother. From me they received a regrettable love for macaroni and cheese and the odd ability to do party tricks with their double jointed fingers.
We left Panera and headed our separate ways. Connie and Shelby rushed off to Bebe’s Salon where Cousin Betsy would transform Shelby’s hair into a tight swirl of glamour. I went back home to finish laundry, clean the kitchen, rouse the younger sleeping beauties and give menacing looks at the dog.
I filled a bag with items from a list of things they forgot to take earlier, and by Noon I was back in the car, on my way to pick up Connie at Christine’s house. We grabbed a quick bite of lunch and arrived at St. Mary’s hospital by 1:30pm. Her Dad looked good, but was still very weak. Five days in a hospital bed had been almost as draining as the illness, and he dozed on and off while we were there. As always though, his attitude was positive, and if for no other reason than to take his hand and see his big broad smile, it was well worth going home.
I dropped Connie back at Christine’s at 3:30pm and drove home to retrieve Ashlyn and Taylor for the rest of the evening’s activities. I grabbed cameras, batteries and another, smaller group of forgotten, but essential items and we ventured forth once again. We arrived at Farragut Park a few minutes early and realized that this must be THE place for prom pictures in the area. A colorful array of shimmering gowns and suave tuxedos dotted the landscape, while parents dutifully snapped digital memories of this once in a lifetime event (well, twice if you go to your Junior AND Senior Proms. Three times if you go as a sophomore with an older date. Four times or more if your parents have very relaxed standards and are really in a rush for a grandchild).
Connie, Christine and Shelby were fashionably late. It was worth the wait. I am trying to be as objective as possible, but as Shelby walked across the grass in that bright afternoon sun, the only word I could think of was “Stunning.” I was a bit dazed for a moment, and that was when her life flashed by in my head. The tiny baby crying, and then sleeping in my arms just after her birth. The toddler on my lap watching Disney Sing-a-long videos. The First day of pre-school, loving big sister, singing the song I wrote in the church Christmas play. The images were on fast forward, but I could see them all, clear as the day we lived them.
I’m sure I felt every clichéd father feeling there is that afternoon; proud, happy, protective, afraid. I did my best not to embarrass her by saying anything too stupid. That’s very tough for me. Stupid comes naturally, so the only way to hinder it is to keep my mouth shut. I slipped a few times. When her date arrived I shook his hand and told him he looked “dapper.” I suppose I should have warned him to stay away from those dangerous “speakeasies” too. Fortunately, I think he was too nervous to hear me or care that I was an idiot. At least I hope so anyway.
We got some great photographs. Dogwood blooms accented the background and we framed the shots so that none of the other couples or dog walkers could be seen. Soon, they were anxious to go. Dinner reservations awaited and the thrill and mystery of prom beckoned. I was surprised to learn that Shelby was taking a change of clothes, and even more surprised that she would be changing in order for them to go bowling after the dance. Apparently going bowling after the prom is a tradition, I just did not know. Maybe it’s something kids do everywhere, or maybe it’s just we live in Tennessee. I decided that there could be far worse post-prom activities.
As they were leaving, I stayed back, letting Christine walk them to the car and offer words of wisdom and threats on my behalf. Since I was not expected to be there, she had prepared to be “Mr. Bruce” (as she calls me). I have no doubt she did a better job than I would have done that evening.
After a quick dinner at the Smoky Mountain Brewery, we headed back to St. Mary’s for more visiting with family and Connie’s Dad. Everyone wanted to see pictures, so like any good father I took out my laptop and prepared a quick slideshow. Of course, they all thought Shelby was beautiful. They also noted that the photographer had an eye for capturing the essence of the moment with an artistic flair that transcended that of mere humans. Not in so many words, of course, but that was the gist of the conversation.
We got home around 12:30am and got a call from Shelby. She was having a great time. Done with bowling they had just arrived at a pool party at a friend’s house in Oak Ridge. I wondered how long this “prom” thing would last. Normally, my Dad alarm would be ringing loudly, but the parents spoke to me and assured me that there would be good supervision. What could I do? I have to keep reminding myself that Shelby is almost nineteen years old. I can give her the “disappointed” speech, but I’ve never been able to do that one convincingly. It usually ends up with someone giggling.
Besides, I was not disappointed in Shelby. Not in the least. I was glad she was out having fun. And, I fully realized that night…I trusted her completely. Shelby had never given me a reason to worry. She has a good level head on her shoulders and a good self esteem. I could sleep soundly while she was out.
I did not sleep well at all. I lay awake, exhausted, knowing that I would have to get up soon to answer the door. My mind raced in circles, lapping around ideas and taking brief pit stops to toss and turn, disturbing Connie. At 2:30am Shelby called and asked if I would make coffee for Zach so that he would be good and awake for his drive home after he dropped her off. Sure, I said, I can do that. I have no idea what his cup of coffee tasted like. I don’t remember making it, just handing him something resembling a to-go mug and ushering him out the door. I said something stupid again, like “be careful, young man,” but I blame that one on lack of sleep. It can’t be held against me.
Shelby came into our bedroom and told us all about her evening. Even as we approached and passed three in the morning, her excitement for the night had not diminished. She talked until Zach called and said he was home, and then talked a little more. I would not have stopped her. My alarm was set for 4:30am, so it made no difference to me. I could sleep on the plane.
I’m back in DC now, wishing I was home again. I can’t believe that I almost missed out on such a wonderful experience. It was tiring, and I slept most of Sunday afternoon when I got back to my room at the hotel, but I slept better, deeper, and more contented than I have in a long time. I knew I had done the right thing. I never felt so good.
I had not planned to be there. In one of those “logical decisions that make no sense” choices I had intended to stay in DC based on the theory that returning home for just one day was not rational. Of course, it was not rational…most truly wondrous experiences in life are not rational.
I began questioning my decision early in the week and by Friday morning I was beating myself up pretty hard. Changing plans in mid stream is never easy, particularly when government travel rules and regulations apply, but I became obsessed that day with getting home. Between Shelby’s Prom and Connie’s Dad being in the hospital, I decided that I would find a way even if it meant renting a car and driving.
Fortunately, and the only time it occurred all week, our meeting ended early that day. That gave me time to get a new ticket issued for the late direct flight to Knoxville that evening and an early connecting flight back to DC on Sunday morning. I did not tell the family I was coming home, so when I knocked on the door at 11pm, I could hear the frantic scamper of feet and the screaming whisper of “someone’s at the door!” Surprised smiles, then hugs and kisses greeted me. It was great to be home.
Connie and I woke up early Saturday morning and tried to map out our day. Shelby had a hair appointment at 10am and was going with her best friend Christine to do nails at one. Connie and Christine would do Shelby’s makeup at 3:30pm, and we all had to be at the Farragut Park for pictures at 5:15pm. I may be a guy, but I’ve lived in a house full of women long enough to know not to ask too many questions or interfere with the hair, makeup and nails process. Just tell me when and where, and I’ll drop off, pick up or get out of the way.
Somewhere amidst all of the running around, we needed to go to the hospital in Knoxville, and I needed to do my laundry. Simple enough. There was a lot of daylight ahead of us. I put a load of laundry in the wash and we realized that we had enough time for the three of us to go to Panera Bread for coffee before she and Shelby drove to Maryville for the hair appointment.
It was a beautiful morning, with the promise of a spectacularly beautiful day, so we sat outside of Panera at the little black metal tables that wobble a bit, drank our coffee and I ate a good, but not very filling carrot-walnut muffin while they ate bagels and cream cheese. In the morning sun, with very little makeup and minimal attention to hair, I was struck by the amazing natural beauty of my wife and daughter. Some have to try very hard to draw attention to themselves, and it’s blatantly obvious that they do, but a rare few are born fortunate. I’m glad that all three of my girls received this special gift from their mother. From me they received a regrettable love for macaroni and cheese and the odd ability to do party tricks with their double jointed fingers.
We left Panera and headed our separate ways. Connie and Shelby rushed off to Bebe’s Salon where Cousin Betsy would transform Shelby’s hair into a tight swirl of glamour. I went back home to finish laundry, clean the kitchen, rouse the younger sleeping beauties and give menacing looks at the dog.
I filled a bag with items from a list of things they forgot to take earlier, and by Noon I was back in the car, on my way to pick up Connie at Christine’s house. We grabbed a quick bite of lunch and arrived at St. Mary’s hospital by 1:30pm. Her Dad looked good, but was still very weak. Five days in a hospital bed had been almost as draining as the illness, and he dozed on and off while we were there. As always though, his attitude was positive, and if for no other reason than to take his hand and see his big broad smile, it was well worth going home.
I dropped Connie back at Christine’s at 3:30pm and drove home to retrieve Ashlyn and Taylor for the rest of the evening’s activities. I grabbed cameras, batteries and another, smaller group of forgotten, but essential items and we ventured forth once again. We arrived at Farragut Park a few minutes early and realized that this must be THE place for prom pictures in the area. A colorful array of shimmering gowns and suave tuxedos dotted the landscape, while parents dutifully snapped digital memories of this once in a lifetime event (well, twice if you go to your Junior AND Senior Proms. Three times if you go as a sophomore with an older date. Four times or more if your parents have very relaxed standards and are really in a rush for a grandchild).
Connie, Christine and Shelby were fashionably late. It was worth the wait. I am trying to be as objective as possible, but as Shelby walked across the grass in that bright afternoon sun, the only word I could think of was “Stunning.” I was a bit dazed for a moment, and that was when her life flashed by in my head. The tiny baby crying, and then sleeping in my arms just after her birth. The toddler on my lap watching Disney Sing-a-long videos. The First day of pre-school, loving big sister, singing the song I wrote in the church Christmas play. The images were on fast forward, but I could see them all, clear as the day we lived them.
I’m sure I felt every clichéd father feeling there is that afternoon; proud, happy, protective, afraid. I did my best not to embarrass her by saying anything too stupid. That’s very tough for me. Stupid comes naturally, so the only way to hinder it is to keep my mouth shut. I slipped a few times. When her date arrived I shook his hand and told him he looked “dapper.” I suppose I should have warned him to stay away from those dangerous “speakeasies” too. Fortunately, I think he was too nervous to hear me or care that I was an idiot. At least I hope so anyway.
We got some great photographs. Dogwood blooms accented the background and we framed the shots so that none of the other couples or dog walkers could be seen. Soon, they were anxious to go. Dinner reservations awaited and the thrill and mystery of prom beckoned. I was surprised to learn that Shelby was taking a change of clothes, and even more surprised that she would be changing in order for them to go bowling after the dance. Apparently going bowling after the prom is a tradition, I just did not know. Maybe it’s something kids do everywhere, or maybe it’s just we live in Tennessee. I decided that there could be far worse post-prom activities.
As they were leaving, I stayed back, letting Christine walk them to the car and offer words of wisdom and threats on my behalf. Since I was not expected to be there, she had prepared to be “Mr. Bruce” (as she calls me). I have no doubt she did a better job than I would have done that evening.
After a quick dinner at the Smoky Mountain Brewery, we headed back to St. Mary’s for more visiting with family and Connie’s Dad. Everyone wanted to see pictures, so like any good father I took out my laptop and prepared a quick slideshow. Of course, they all thought Shelby was beautiful. They also noted that the photographer had an eye for capturing the essence of the moment with an artistic flair that transcended that of mere humans. Not in so many words, of course, but that was the gist of the conversation.
We got home around 12:30am and got a call from Shelby. She was having a great time. Done with bowling they had just arrived at a pool party at a friend’s house in Oak Ridge. I wondered how long this “prom” thing would last. Normally, my Dad alarm would be ringing loudly, but the parents spoke to me and assured me that there would be good supervision. What could I do? I have to keep reminding myself that Shelby is almost nineteen years old. I can give her the “disappointed” speech, but I’ve never been able to do that one convincingly. It usually ends up with someone giggling.
Besides, I was not disappointed in Shelby. Not in the least. I was glad she was out having fun. And, I fully realized that night…I trusted her completely. Shelby had never given me a reason to worry. She has a good level head on her shoulders and a good self esteem. I could sleep soundly while she was out.
I did not sleep well at all. I lay awake, exhausted, knowing that I would have to get up soon to answer the door. My mind raced in circles, lapping around ideas and taking brief pit stops to toss and turn, disturbing Connie. At 2:30am Shelby called and asked if I would make coffee for Zach so that he would be good and awake for his drive home after he dropped her off. Sure, I said, I can do that. I have no idea what his cup of coffee tasted like. I don’t remember making it, just handing him something resembling a to-go mug and ushering him out the door. I said something stupid again, like “be careful, young man,” but I blame that one on lack of sleep. It can’t be held against me.
Shelby came into our bedroom and told us all about her evening. Even as we approached and passed three in the morning, her excitement for the night had not diminished. She talked until Zach called and said he was home, and then talked a little more. I would not have stopped her. My alarm was set for 4:30am, so it made no difference to me. I could sleep on the plane.
I’m back in DC now, wishing I was home again. I can’t believe that I almost missed out on such a wonderful experience. It was tiring, and I slept most of Sunday afternoon when I got back to my room at the hotel, but I slept better, deeper, and more contented than I have in a long time. I knew I had done the right thing. I never felt so good.
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