The smell of death permeated
the stark white room. Pain-killers and various colored fluids littered
the plain chestnut night stand. A large sterilized plastic sheet
blanketed the single hard mattressed bed that supported the dying remains
of Herbert Wayne Valley, aged 73 years, thinning silver hair, sunken dark
eyes, yellowed teeth from years of chain smoking, a thin layer of pasty
damp skin covering his crackling bones; and only a few more weeks to live.
"Hey Dad, I'm home!" yelled Byron excitedly.
Today was his sixteenth birthday, a day Byron had been long waiting for.
For weeks he had imagined a totally rad surprise party where all of his
friends jumped out from behind every piece of furniture in his house and
gave him presents and danced and laughed until the sun came up the next
day. The best part would be when his dad came up to him, gave him
a hug that almost snapped his ribs, told him how awesomely proud he was
of Byron and how much he loved him, and then took him out fishing.
He couldn't wait!
"Dad! Dad? Where are you?"
Byron repeated as he searched the house for his father.
"I'm in my bedroom. What do you want?"
replied Herbert slightly irritated.
"Oh, I thought maybe you would...I mean...uh...are
you going somewhere? You look dressed up." Byron asked.
"I have to go on a business trip. The
plane leaves in an hour. I'll be back in a few days." said
his father completely unaware it was his only son's birthday.
"But, it's my sixteenth birthday today Dad.
I was hoping we could...." Byron answered barely able to keep his voice
from trembling.
"Oh, well, I have to go son. You understand,
it's business. Maybe we can do something when I get back. I
gotta go now. Catch you later." said Herbert.
Byron stood alone surrounded by his painful
disappointment and dejection as Herbert brushed past him. The last
memory of his sixteenth birthday was hearing the slamming of the front
door as his father exited for his business trip. A string of hacking
coughs woke Byron from his daydream.
"Is there anything I can get you, Dad?"
whispered Byron.
"Some water." replied Herbert struggling to
raise his head up from the pillow which had formed to the shape of his
bulbous head.
"Sure. Anything else?" asked Byron
with concern on his face.
"Not now." answered Herbert as he laid his head
back down and fell back asleep.
As Dr. Parnells called out his name to receive
his diploma, Byron looked around frantically trying to locate his father
in the stands.
"Mr. Byron Lee Valley." the Dean repeated
when Byron failed to receive his parchment. "Mr. Byron Lee Valley...do
you wish to graduate this year?" asked Dr. Parnells sarcastically.
"Ah, yes...I guess so...thanks Dr. Parnells."
responded Byron as he lowered his head while using all of his strength
to accept the piece of paper that was his biggest achievement yet.
Byron continued scanning the emptying crowd
of graduate's relatives and friends until he was the last remaining person
in the auditorium. Still no dad. Maybe he had to leave early
or maybe he's waiting outside for me or maybe he's at home planning a big
surprise graduation party for me thought Byron.
Byron came home to an empty house and a note
from his dad informing him that he would be out of town for a few weeks.
No card, no gift, no nothing. Slowly, Byron trudged up the fifteen
carpet covered stairs which lead to his room. He creaked open his
bedroom door and made his way to his dresser. As he placed his framed
diploma in his bottom drawer under some old socks and underpants, he was
forced to wipe the tears that had started falling down his face.
"Ohhhhh....ohhhh." moaned Herbert upon waking
for the second time that evening.
"Dad...Dad! Are you all right? What
do you need?" Byron said worried and gently shaking his father's
arm.
"Just some more water and maybe another pain
killer...a blue one this time." Herbert answered looking up at his son
for a brief moment. If he only knew; if he only knew how hard it's
been for me thought Herbert. I wish he knew. Then, he drifted
back off to sleep.
"I'm sorry, Byron, but I just don't love you
anymore. I've changed...you've changed...hell, I don't know...someone's
changed. All I know is, this isn't good for me anymore. I need
a man who's strong all the time and makes lots of money and doesn't have
any problems you know? You're just a cook in a restaurant and you
have a diploma for Godsakes! Look, I gotta go...I have a business
trip I have to go on. See ya' Byron." This was the tirade of
Mary Levinson, a long-time live-in girlfriend of Byron's for five years;
a woman he was intending on marrying and spending the rest of his life
with.
For the next few weeks, Byron had spent day
and night in bed sobbing uncontrollably. Every relationship he had
had since he had graduated university had ended the same. Why?
What did they all have in common? My dad. All of them were
just like my dad; business women who traveled regularly, were emotionally
unavailable, and expected him to "take it". Well, no more.
From now on I'm going solo.
"Byron. Byron. Byron!" yelled
Herbert.
"Huh? Oh, sorry, Dad. I must have
been daydreaming again." answered Byron embarrassed by his lack of
attention and care to his father. "What do you need?"
"I need some more pills. Give me two yellow,
one pink, and half a blue one." ordered Herbert.
"Are you sure that's not too many? How
about I warm up a water bottle and rub your back for you instead?"
begged Byron.
"No! I need the pills, they're the only
things that get rid of the pain I feel inside. Please Byron, I haven't
long to live and I don't want to go out in pain." pleaded Herbert.
"Okay Dad, whatever you want." Byron conceded
reluctantly.
"Thank you." whispered Herbert.
"You wanted to see me doctor?" asked Byron
as he hesitantly stepped into his dad's doctor's office. Chilled
by the impending news of his father's recent check-up, Byron cautiously
sat down. The hardness of the chair was accented by the wall of black
and white framed artifacts that proved the credibility of the man who was
to determine the course of his dad's remaining years.
"I'm sorry to have to tell you this, Brian."
Dr. Salten started, his voice belying his words.
"It's Byron." corrected Byron.
"Oh, yes, of course, sorry Byron. Well,
all of the tests have come back positive. Your dad has inoperable
liver cancer. There's nothing more we can do for him. Sorry."
recited Dr. Salten as if reading it from a placard in a lecture hall.
"I don't understand. There must be something
that can be done to help him. He's strong and still fairly young.
Please...help him." cried Byron unable to accept the doctor's verdict.
He just wasn't ready for his dad to die yet, not until Byron could prove
himself worthy of his dad's love and respect.
"The cancer has moved to other parts of his
body, including his legs, pancreas, lymph nodes, and left lung. The
only thing we can do now is provide him with some palliative care.
We can have a bed arranged for him to stay in by next week sometime." explained
Dr. Salten.
"No. I don't want my dad dying in a hospital
and I know that he would rather die at home. I'll take care of him."
challenged Byron.
As he left the doctor's cold stale office, Byron
retained a stoic appearance until arriving at his home twenty minutes later.
Upon entering through the front door, a thunderous scream escaped from
his chest. Never had he felt such intense anger.
"Son. Son. Son!" screeched
Herbert for the fourth time that night. The time was now three thirty
in the morning and Byron was exhausted from re-experiencing the pain of
his early traumas in life and being stirred awake by his ailing father
every few hours.
"Sorry, Dad, I must have drifted off again.
Is something wrong?" he asked.
"No. I just wanted to talk to you about
something...actually...I'd like to share myself with you...if it's okay
with you." said Herbert. After decades of keeping his pain to himself,
he decided he had to let it out. He had to reach out to his son,
before it was too late. He had to understand...why.
"Son, I need you to listen to me for awhile;
there are some things I need to tell you so you'll understand. You
see, I've always been a hard working man." said Herbert.
"I know, Dad. You're the hardest working
person I know." said Byron.
"Just listen to me Byron." interrupted
Herbert. "I worked hard all of my life...too hard...harder than I
needed to. I had to. You see, growing up I had to get the highest
grades in school, be the best player on the football team, be on the Dean's
list in university, make lots of money, own the biggest house on the block,
and marry the most beautiful girl in the neighborhood. I still miss
her after all these years since she died." said Herbert.
"But why?" asked his son.
"All I ever wanted was for my dad to love and
respect me. He drank a lot...too much actually, but no one ever said
so. He was a bitter elf-contained man. Nothing I ever did was
good enough, so I tried harder and harder to please him. I thought
that if I could just succeed at this one thing, I could finally get him
to tell me he loved me, but it never worked. The more I tried, the
less he saw. Then, he died of a heart attack. Even though he
was dead and gone, I never gave up trying to gain his love and upport...never...until
now." explained Herbert tears starting to run down his pale skin.
"I don't understand, Dad." Byron said becoming
concerned for his father's health.
"You see, son, I've now realized after all these
years of driving myself into the ground that I'll never get my father's
love and support. I've realized that that was just the way he was
and it had absolutely nothing to do with me. I don't know why, but
he just couldn't love me or at least he didn't know how to love me."
continued Herbert.
"What are you saying dad? You don't care
if he loves you anymore?" asked Byron.
"What I'm trying to say son is that I'm just
an old dying man whose wasted his whole life working instead of focusing
on what's most important." Herbert replied.
"Which is?" Byron hesitantly asked.
"You son." Herbert said looking into his son's
now moistened eyes. "I'm sorry."
"Dad! Dad! I'm home!" yelled
Herb excitedly.
Suddenly, a cacophony of screams erupted from
behind every piece of furniture in the house, "happy birthday Herb!" yelled
all of his friends. Then, from the kitchen came Herb's dad with the
biggest birthday cake he'd ever seen lit up with what seemed to be a hundred
birthday candles.
"Happy sixteenth birthday son!" congratulated
Byron as he gave his son a giant hug that nearly snapped his ribs.
"How 'bout we go fishing tomorrow?"