Nathan missed the entire week of school following Gordie’s
death. The Friday following
Gordie’s death was “Hawaiian Day” at school. Nathan was sad to miss it because he had all of his Hawaiian
stuff from our trip a week before Gordie died. I think he would have gone to school that day had it not
been the day of Gordie’s funeral.
The day after Gordie’s funeral, which was a Saturday, I sat down with Nathan.
“What are you thinking about in terms of school Bud? Do you think you want to go back on
Monday?”, I asked.
“I don’t know”, Nathan replied, looking at me with those
big, sad brown eyes.
“OK. Well think
about about it over the weekend and we can decide tomorrow night”.
“Who will take me?”, Nathan asked.
“Me”, I replied.
“Are you not going to work anymore and take care of me and
Wyatt?”, he asked.
“I would love to Bud but I have to work so that we have food
and clothes and sports stuff”, I replied with a little smile.
“Oh.”, he said.
And then “who’s going to take care of me and Wyatt?” he asked.
Good fucking question
I thought.
“I’m going to start looking for a Nanny”, I said.
“OK”, Nathan said.
He did not look happy.
Nathan was cared for by a Nanny his first 3.5 years of his
life, until Gordie was laid off in the economic downturn late 2008. Gordie cared for him from then until
his death. Nathan had never been
happier than when Gordie was what I jokingly called “the Manny”.
“Don’t worry Bud, I will find a super fun Nanny”, I said.
“OK”, he said but he looked worried.
On Sunday afternoon, Nathan told me he wanted to go back to
school. I was actually pretty surprised. Although I really should not have been
surprised. Nathan had gone to
baseball practice the morning after Gordie died…which was his choice.
The next morning I woke him up.
“You still want to go to school today Bud?” I asked as he
wiped the sleep from his eyes.
“Yes. I miss my
friends”, he said.
“OK. Let’s get
up and get ready”, I said.
I helped him get dressed, fed him breakfast, made his lunch,
and helped him pack his backpack.
We drove to school. I felt
like I was going to throw up. What
was this going to be like for him?
How would his friends treat him?
Would people mention his Dad?
Would he cry? Would he want
to go home early?
I parked my car and walked Nathan to the front of his school. The whistle blew and it was time for
the kids to line up with their classes.
We walked toward Nathan’s class line. His friends were already in line.
“Nathan!” his best friend, Cade, yelled.
Cade ran over to Nathan and gave him a hug.
Nathan’s other friends gathered around him.
“Hi Nathan”,
“It’s good to have you back”
“We missed you”
I looked at Nathan’s face. He looked happy.
It was the first time I had seen a happy look on his face since this
nightmare started. The tears
started rolling down my cheeks.
I walked over and touched his shoulder. “You OK Bud? Should I stay?” I asked.
“You can go Mom.
I’ll see you after school”.
I walked back to my car, my dark sunglasses on, tears still
falling from my eyes. I drove
home. I was so happy that Nathan had
such loving friends in his life.
But I was also so angry that he was now the boy at school, and
everywhere else, “whose father died”.
That angry feeling in my gut started to boil again. I needed to run.
Before that day I had never, ever run with my phone. I don’t like how heavy it is. I prefer to run with a lighter
iPod. When I got home from taking
Nathan to school, I grabbed my phone and my iPod. I put my phone into the pocket of my running pants and
clipped my iPod to the waistband.
I left my parents’ house and started running down the street. The weight of the phone bothered me, in
fact, as I ran, I felt like my pants were going to fall down. But there was no way I was going to let
that phone out of my sight just in case the school called because Nathan needed
me. I ran through the streets of
my parents’ neighborhood thinking of Nathan’s happy face when his friends
gathered around him at school.
He’s going to be OK,
I thought.
Nathan stayed at school all day. When I picked him up, he walked up to me with a happy
face.
“My friends all made me cards”, he said.
I smiled.
“That’s so nice”, I replied.
When we got home from school, Nathan and I sat at the table
and looked at each and every card that expressed his classmates' sadness about him losing his Dad.
Nathan loved them and so did I. There is something so simple, honest, and sweet about
first grade condolences cards.
When I put him to bed that night, I marveled at his
strength. I could not believe that
he went back to school one week after losing his Dad. As I turned off the light in the boys’ room and headed down
the hall to my room, I had one thought in my head.
How the hell did
Nathan do it? I don’t know how I
will ever be able to go back to work.