I gripped the steering wheel, my knuckles turning white as I willed myself to keep control, to keep the car on the road. I’d never lost control before, I’d always kept everything in, why start now when a crash could kill me or someone else? Tears filled my eyes and clouded my vision, my anger and hurt boiled and seethed and the closer I got to my destination the more confused I became. What was I doing…really? It had been five years…five years to the day actually since I had come here, who knew what I would do once I got there. Five years ago he had left me, left us; made out lives easier, made our lives harder. Five years ago my father had died.
I said it over and over in my head. He died, he’s dead, my father is dead. He was dead, but for five years he had continued to torment me; to confuse me. I had never known how I felt about his death and it wasn’t any clearer now, driving through the pouring rain, the wind threatening to toss little me and my little car to the side of the road. When he died, he freed me and my family of his rants, his drunken nights, the uncertainty…but I wasn’t free. I wanted to miss him; but I was furious with him. For five years I had been angry with him; that was enough. I had left the house with one goal in mind, to say everything I had held in since he had died, since before that even. Everything I ever wanted to say to him would be said today.
There was only one place I could think of to go to talk to him. When he was cremated his ashes were spread across the farm where he had been raised; the farm where my Grandparents had lived for the next thirty odd years. It now belonged to someone else so I pulled in the long drive and parked at the bottom. I didn’t want to disturb anyone; this would be quick. I stepped out of the car ignoring the rain that soaked my clothes and flattened my Auburn hair to my head. I slammed the door behind me and stomped through the mud to the field opposite the house; where I knew I would find him. The rain fell down my cheeks and into my eyes, mixing the hot tears and blurring my vision, but I knew my way. I had run all over these fields as a kid, intrigued by the old barn with its rotting floors and dank, dirty basement.
I reached the spot where I had stood exactly five years ago. Through my blurred vision I could see my mom and my brother, my uncle and aunts, and cousins, I remembered it all as if it had been a forgotten dream remembered only because a single object pulled it from my memory. I stood there, rooted to the spot, feet apart, arms down at my side. It was time…

He could see her approach, her figure materializing through the rain, her eyes set in determination, and he knew she didn’t know he was there. How could she? He had been gone for so long…he hated himself for being gone so long. He watched her silently as she approached. It pained him to see her green eyes so hurt, so full of questions that no one could answer for her, no one except him. He had always known this day would come, he knew that she wouldn’t be able to hold everything inside, to stay silent forever. She had always been so strong, somehow knowing that her mother and her brother needed someone else to be the strong one. He had always been so proud of her, and he had told her, many times, how much he loved her, but she hadn’t believed him, what reason did she have to trust anything he said?
He could see, as clear as if it were yesterday, all the times she had been the strong one. How she had known that the best thing she could do for her family was just be there, he had know idea….but somehow, she had always known…

“Get in the car, we’re leaving,” she said as she picked up her purse and nudged her son toward the door.
“But…”
“Please don’t argue,” she turned to her daughter, tears glistening in her usually peaceful eyes, “Get in the car.”
There was a loud bang and all three heads turned toward the bedroom door. He stood there, unsteadily, looking through glassy eyes at his family frozen like deer in the headlights.
“Where’re you goin…” he slurred, his speech barely audible, “Get back ‘n here…”
“We’re going to my mom’s house. You can stay here and try and sober up,” she said, in the voice she used when the man she was married to changed; changed from loving husband and caring dad, to the man that stood before them now.
“You’re not leaving me here…you can’t take my kids…they love me.”
Her lip quivered as she let her husbands words sink in. She didn’t want to argue, she knew he spoke the truth, but she also knew…
“Not now,” she turned to her daughter as the young girl spoke in a voice older than her years. “We don’t love you when you’re like this, we don’t want to be around you.” She spoke with the courage that sometimes took hold of her when facing her father, the courage that came and went but never lasted. The girl turned to her brother,
“C’mon, lets get in the car.” The boy nodded and followed his sister, the small family torn apart, but these three brought closer together.

Her hands shook, whether from the cold rain that soaked her to the bone or from the frustration that was now overtaking her, she wasn’t sure. All she knew was that she had so many things to say and no idea where to start. She knew what she was the angriest about; she just couldn’t understand the hold that that bottle had had on him. He had so many chances, there were so many times when he could have quit, when he did quit. Yet he always went back. But why? He had so many reasons to stay sober; he had a family that loved him, he had kids, he had so many talents…he had kids! Kids that he scared when he came home stumbling and yelling, kids that wanted to see him better, that wanted him home. Weren’t those good enough reasons to stop, shouldn’t his family mean more to him than some bottle? No, he always went back. There would be months at a time when he would be fine and they would all be happy…but the drink always won. Something about it was more appealing than his family…

He sat with his guitar at the edge of her bed; the sweet notes only he could produce rang out and lulled her to sleep.
“Puff the magic dragon, lived by the sea…”
His voice was soft and low and her eyelids began to droop almost instantly.  Before he had come up, sleeping had seemed impossible, she had tossed and turned, and finally went downstairs to find one of her parents. Her dad had led her back up to her room, his guitar in hand and she had crawled back under the covers and pulled them tight. His voice wasn’t slurred tonight, his eyes were clear and he sang like an angel, this was what she knew. This was the Daddy she loved, the one she wanted to listen to and talk to, the one who explained how they made fake blood so she wouldn’t be scared by the horror movies he loved to watch.
It had been so long since she had been awoken in the middle of the night by his voice calling out to a quiet house. Their family did stuff together, they went to the Zoo, he watched movies with them, and he held hands with her mom. This was the way life was supposed to be, she thought as she fell into a deep, safe, sleep.
She knew before she opened her eyes that it was all gone. The life she had grown used to was shattering beneath her as her parents fought downstairs. His voice was still the same, he wasn’t slurring yet, which was what made it worse, it sounded like her dad, but it wasn’t.
They were fighting about the half empty bottle her mom had found, the one he swore was old, the one they all knew wasn’t…

He saw her standing there, her clothes stuck to her, her whole body shaking from the cold, and he wanted to reach out and hug her, he wanted to tell her it would be ok, she would be all right, like he never had. He watched as her mouth opened and closed, he could see the struggle going on inside of her. Which one of his many mistakes would she bring up first? He wanted her to yell, to scream, to get out everything she needed to say, everything he deserved to hear.
She reached up and pulled her hand through her soaked hair, yanking it through the tangles, taking her frustration out on herself. She tugged on the drenched strands looking around as though she were lost, the determination had faded and was replaced with uncertainty. He knew she was wondering why she had come here, if she could do what she needed she needed so desperately. He tried to will her the strength she needed, he had never given her what she needed before, but he could do it now. He could stand to hear what she would say no matter how much it hurt; he could listen if it was what she needed to say…
“Just say it…”

A groan of frustration escaped my throat; I was not debating this anymore…it was time.
“Where are you!?” I yelled, lifting my face to the rain, to him. “I have so much to say!”
I opened my mouth, but nothing came out, I didn’t know where to begin, “I have to talk to you,” I whispered dropping my face into my hands, feeling drained; defeated. I couldn’t say what I needed to say to an empty field. I had come all this way for nothing. I let out a sob and fell to my knees, sinking into the soft my mud. I was never going to get this out. I sat in the rain, my head in my hands, my pants soaked through, every bone in my body aching with the cold, and I felt helpless. I had finally taken the initiative and come here, and now I couldn’t say anything, I would have these feelings inside forever. They had finally conquered me, I felt so…deflated.
“Why,” I whispered, “Why aren’t you here?”

“I am,” he urged, “I’m here.” He tried to make her feel it, to understand that he was there and would always be there. She had to know that he could hear her, it was the only way she would be free of him, free of every harm he had ever done to her. He had never laid a hand on anyone in his family, but he knew he had caused them all more harm than if he had hit them. If knowing he was there was all she needed to be able to free herself of the life he had made her live, then he would do all he could do to make her feel him there…
“I’m here sweetie, I’m here…”

Through the wind, the rain, and my sobs, there was something else. I could hear something, a whisper on the wind…something not quite right, but not quite different. Something about it was familiar, safe. It was a lullaby, a sweet song on a sleepless night. Words clear as glass, smooth as the wood of a shiny black guitar. Somewhere on the wind were the words she needed to hear, “I’m not gone, I’m here, and I’m listening…”
In my head I could see his face, every feature of his face that had slowly started to fade from my memory, was suddenly there. His dark Elvis hair, his laughing green eyes, and his smile…I had missed him so much.
I opened my mouth, ready to say what I had come here to say, but as I saw his face, my anger seemed to slowly fade. All that had been so important to me on the drive here suddenly didn’t matter anymore. All that mattered was that in some small way, he was there with me.

“I’m listening,” he pushed.

There were only two things she wanted him to know…
“I love you Daddy…I miss you so much.”

“I know…” he said, “I know.”