Dad, In Spirit Chapters 22-23

Hello,

This is A.

LeFay coming to you with the new chapters for Dad in Spirit.

For those of you who have joined me for the journey of Evan Jones and his family,

Thank you so much for beginning these new chapters.

We will start with Evan's plan of action.

We hopped on a bus to get to the hospital,

But nobody gave Dad any room.

When I picked the seat and sat on the edge to give Dad a little space,

Some guy got on with a pile of books and looked down at me like I was a boy scout reject.

I stood up to let him sit down,

And he slid right through Dad.

I could see Dad's head and shoulders coming out of the guy's hat.

The guy started shifting and shrugging.

He felt Dad.

Come on,

I said,

Waving at Dad to stand up with me.

The guy gave me a crazy look,

But Dad stood up.

Rubbing his stomach,

Dad said,

You know what?

When that guy slid into me,

I could taste liver and onions.

I think he had liver and onions for lunch.

Too bad he didn't have dessert.

Weird,

B.

J.

Said.

You heard that?

I asked.

Sure.

Can you see him?

Dad leaned real close to B.

J.

And made a fish face.

I laughed,

But B.

J.

Just blinked.

Nope.

I didn't want to tell her about the psychic antenna feature of my personality.

I guess part of me still wanted someone to see Dad without me poking him.

Hey,

Don't worry,

Eben.

It'll all work out.

Dad put his hand up to pat me,

But then he stuck it into his pocket.

And how do you know that?

Okay,

So I don't.

Just as Dad said that some lady with a handful of shopping bags stood right where Dad was,

He giggled and staggered backward.

Man,

Those bags tickle.

He stepped into a guy with an umbrella.

Shivering,

He squeezed into a space between a kid bobbing to his headphones and a lady reading the sports section.

That guy has a serious problem,

Dad said pointing at the umbrella man.

What do you mean?

I leaned toward Dad,

Who was behind me by that point.

He thinks I should pump mind-altering drugs through the air vents on city buses.

How cruel,

B.

J.

Shook her head.

How weird.

Dad could stand inside other human beings and hear their thoughts.

This couldn't be a good sign for getting Dad back to normal.

I had to get Dad to the hospital.

And soon.

More and more people crammed into the bus,

And so there was no place left for Dad to stand.

I knew I couldn't stand being forced to listen to some stranger's thoughts.

It'd be too much like being possessed by an evil spirit.

Stuck inside a lady with a stroller,

Dad shouted,

I gotta get out of here.

He sidestepped right off the bus.

Where'd the cord?

I shouted at B.

J.

She jumped and pulled it.

The bus jerked to a stop at the corner,

But it took us forever to push our way through the crowd.

I kept checking the street for Dad.

I didn't want him to disappear.

When we hit the sidewalk,

I felt positive that he would be gone.

But there he sat,

With his feet in the gutter and his head in his hands.

Dad?

That woman was remembering the bath she gave her little kid this morning.

You have any idea what it's like to bathe a baby?

He held his hands out.

They're so small,

You can hold them in your hand.

I didn't remember ever seeing him with a baby,

But I had seen him hide an entire orange in one hand.

You're holding their life,

Making little suds on their soft skin,

Keeping the soap out of their eyes.

They laugh when you slap the water.

I should have said something,

But a lady stood in the corner staring at us like we were Martians or something.

B.

J.

Smiled.

Dad smiled back,

But she didn't see it.

I want to feel things so badly my heart aches,

But all I've got is air.

He waved his hand in front of him,

Connecting with nothing.

We've got to get Dad to the hospital,

I said.

I didn't want to think anymore.

I just wanted to do.

I wanted to get Dad to the hospital and see him become a whole person again.

With a bus ride out of the picture,

We had a lot of ground to cover on foot before we could get to the hospital.

I wonder where you go when you're not around,

B.

J.

Asked as we got underway.

I don't know,

Belinda.

I only remember the times when I'm with Wynn and the kids.

It's like I'm stuck inside of a movie and I just flash from one scene to the next.

There's nothing in between.

Too much,

B.

J.

Said as we turned a corner.

We walked in silence for another block.

Then Dad stopped.

I turned to face him.

He wavered a little.

He didn't stagger.

He looked like a TV image that didn't come in clearly.

His image had started to break up.

Dad?

It doesn't make sense,

But I'm tired.

He yawned.

Tired?

How could you be tired?

I don't know.

We better hurry then.

I started to run and so did B.

J.

Usually Dad would be half a block ahead,

But he barely kept up.

I didn't want to look at him anymore.

I wanted to be at that stupid hospital.

Just two more blocks,

Dad.

I shouted.

Okay.

He gasped back,

And all I could think to do was pray that God made it to the hospital.

By the time he reached the front steps,

Dad had actually started to pant.

He leaned forward and gripped his knees.

I don't think I can make up those steps,

Eb.

Let's go into emergency.

I darted around the side of the building,

Dad stragging himself behind me.

B.

J.

Jumped on the electric mat to trick at the door.

We went in.

I took an immediate left to get out of everyone's way.

Dad wasn't much more than a wispy image of himself once we got to his ward.

He was breathing so heavily he sounded like he was about to have an asthma attack.

Hold on,

Dad.

Bells started going off as we approached Dad's room.

And nurses went running.

I heard someone shout,

Check his airway.

I ran to his room.

You can't go in there.

A nurse grabbed a hold of me to keep me from going in.

I have to,

I shouted,

Trying to pull away.

But she had me good.

Dad kept right on walking.

Dr.

Parker stood over his solid body,

Listening to his chest through the stethoscope.

A nurse checked Dad's throat.

His body panted as hard as his spirit.

Go,

Dad,

Go,

I whispered.

The nurse tried to back B.

J.

And me toward the waiting room,

But I slipped to the side and grabbed a hold of a food cart.

She couldn't push me in the cart so she had to pry my hands off.

I held tight.

I even thought of biting her,

But I kept my eyes on Dad.

He walked straight into the bed.

I prayed he'd disappear into himself.

But he didn't.

He just stood over his own body and stared.

His shoulders started to tremble and someone shouted.

His heart rate rising.

No,

Don't make it worse,

I thought,

Shouting,

Dad!

He turned and in a flash,

He disappeared.

Just like that.

Seeing him vanish again pulled all the strength right out of me.

I collapsed like a tent and the nurse had to carry me into the waiting room.

I closed my eyes,

Hugged B.

J.

,

And prayed for a miracle.

Before I said Amen,

Mom showed up,

Out of breath and shaky.

The nurse took her straight to Dad,

But she came back in a flash.

Drawing me into her arms,

She said,

Hey,

Baby,

Dad's okay.

Breathing easy now.

B.

J.

Leaned against Mom's shoulder as she said.

We tried to bring him back,

But his body put his body and his spirit back together,

Just like you said.

She kissed me on the forehead.

You tried,

Baby,

You tried.

Mom gave me a hug,

But it didn't make me feel any better.

I just felt limp and tired and useless.

Sorry,

Dad.

The next chapter is Coming Home.

A weak strain of Rip Van Winkle disease spread throughout our family.

As soon as we got home,

Everyone went off to sleep.

I saw Samuel climb into Mom and Dad's bed as I walked through the second floor hallway.

He almost looked peaceful next to Mom,

But it was too close to the place where Dad had fallen asleep from me.

Praying Dad wouldn't sink further away from us,

I'd crawl into the window seat in Dad's study.

I fell asleep trying to imagine Dad sitting there with me,

Reading a book.

A sputter and whirr woke me up.

I slept alone in the room,

No sound led the way,

As I reached the hallway.

Then from the kitchen I heard G-G-G-G.

I went down the back stairs,

Thinking maybe Mom was in her shop crafting a gargoyle,

But instead she was cranking the ice cream maker.

G-G-G-G.

She let the handle spin itself out.

Seeing me,

She tapped the machine,

Saying,

Seems all wrong without Luke hanging over my shoulder,

Waiting for the first spoonful.

Leaning into Mom felt like the best way to say,

I agree.

Need a hug?

I was all hugged out,

So I shook my head.

Well,

Sammy was out back cleaning Castle Rock,

And Juliet went with Mary Becker to their art lesson.

Giving the ice cream one more crank,

She said,

Eben,

I know you really want to help your dad.

So do I.

But cutting school,

Barging in on Dr.

Vengeville,

And racing around with your dad,

These things are a little over the edge,

Kiddo.

God knows I'm going a little nuts myself.

Half the time,

I feel like I'm trapped inside Hamilton Hall,

And I find myself talking to your father even though he's nowhere near where they near your shot.

I guess I just don't know what to do with you,

Eben.

I don't know how to help.

I'll cool it,

Mom.

I promise.

Usually it was Dad Mom didn't know what to do with.

She always said to him,

Luke,

You're impossible.

He sent her into panic after panic.

She never knew we need to show up for a parent teacher conference or a piano recital.

Every other day,

He turned the house upside down with a new project.

And the accidents didn't make for peaceful times either.

On a camping trip a few years back,

Dad climbed a tree with our food to keep it away from bears.

He got so into the tree climbing that he kept going up and up.

Mom told him he'd climbed so high there'd be nothing strong enough to hold him.

He didn't listen until after he proved her right by stepping on a weak branch.

He started to fall,

Striking almost every branch on his way down before he grabbed onto a lower branch and broke his fall and his arm.

Mom had to use tent poles to set it.

Even the people in the neighborhood and at school were clueless.

As Dad cut it blocks into the backyard to make Castle Rook,

Mr.

Taggart had asked,

What are you doing with those,

Luke?

Rebuilding your basement?

What?

And destroy my bumper crop of mushrooms?

Dad asked.

Our real basement was wet enough to support fish.

Mr.

Taggart didn't laugh.

Dad realized Mr.

Taggart wasn't amused.

No big surprise there.

So he said,

I'm building a castle for the kids.

If it works out,

I can give you the plans and you can make one for BJ.

A castle?

Yeah.

Mr.

Taggart frowned and walked away mumbling.

Mrs.

Guilford,

Our principal,

Did the same thing when she came out onto the playground and saw Dad pacing on fake advertisements on the front walls of the stores and the hotel he built on our playground.

She didn't see a need for such detail on toys that would wear down anyway.

Dad told her the kids would make their own advertisements when his wore out.

They did too.

Every fifth grade class made advertisements from their history class and pasted them up.

Dad had to be the greatest,

Messiest,

Strangest,

Most dangerous,

And least understood dad around.

And I felt like I was an itch and a prayer away from losing him.

And no one knew what to do.

Sitting in Mom's workshop,

Eating ice cream,

And staring at the limp hammock out the window,

I realized how empty a room could feel,

Even when it was filled with almost a literal ton of rock.

The hammock started to swing in the breeze.

I smiled at the thought of how much Dad loved napping out there.

The image grew into an idea in a flash.

Mom,

I said,

Turning to her as she cleaned her tools,

Why don't we bring Dad here?

Dragging Dad's spirit to the hospital didn't work,

So bringing Dad's body to the house had to be to the next best step to getting the two dads back together.

Then he wouldn't have so far to travel to get home.

Mom tried not to laugh.

You said he was taking a risk every time he came home,

Because it brought him away from his body.

So let's bring him all the way home.

Mom thought on it a moment,

Tapping a chisel on her workbench.

The hospital isn't doing anything for him.

We can't do it with a hired nurse keeping an eye on all of us.

Can we try it?

I jumped off my stool.

Mom nodded.

Indeed,

He belongs at home anyway.

I could have hugged Mom until she grew old.

Unfortunately,

The idea turned out to be a lot harder to put into action than it was to think about.

Dr.

Parker didn't like the risk of Dad being away from the hospital,

Where they could help him breathe if he needed to,

Or avert all kinds of possible medical disasters.

Mom talked about familiar sounds and smells,

The comforts of home that might help Dad heal faster.

Dr.

Parker nodded,

But I could tell by the not so good idea look in her eye that Mom hadn't convinced her yet.

Mom suggested hiring emergency medical technicians,

The EMT folks who come to your rescue when you dial 911.

They would be there all day,

Every day.

Those people had the training to help Dad in an emergency.

Dr.

Parker chewed her pen over that idea,

Then said,

If you do that,

I could sign the release forms.

And with that,

Dad came home,

Hospital bed,

Monitors,

IV tree,

Liquid food,

EMTs,

And all.

We converted our study room into a sleeping room,

And the place looked like a hospital in no time.

That night,

We all sat around Dad's bed,

Practicing our Southern accents as we read to him,

In turn,

From To Kill a Mockingbird to Had Love,

Boo,

Radley,

While Gary Larkin,

The EMT,

Played solitaire in the hall.

As we finish this chapter,

I'd like you to consider all of the people,

Perhaps even you,

Who face the difficulty of a loved one in a hospital.

It is so hard to know what comes next.

And some of us aren't even allowed to visit those we love,

Which makes things even harder,

Not only for us,

But for them.

It's times like these when it helps to revisit memories of the past.

Evan revisits ideas about what his dad did in the past,

And it gives him comfort,

Allows him to feel connected to the dad he can't talk to.

And that's something we can all do.

And we can also support those who have sick or hurt family members they are separated from.

It's important for us to support each and every person around us as they face difficulties we may only remotely understand.

Thank you once again for listening to Dad in Spirit with me.

This is A.

Le Fay of Sylvanosity.

Goodbye.