The Christmas Holidays of 2009 had been rather uneventful, almost normal, but who in their right mind has a "Normal" Christmas Holiday? When you add the family dynamics of relatives that see each other maybe three times a year at best, place them all in a 12 x 12 room, you simply pray for the best. But, surprisingly, our home had been filled with laughter and jokes, aromas that make the senses go wild from seafood delicacies, a standing rib roast, and scrumptious Italian desserts. We were all in good spirits. We had just attended our Christmas Eve Service, and things felt so good. Oh, but the holidays can get so rushed, and before you know it we are counting the days until next Christmas.
It seems that I have gotten into a routine, that is since our daughter was born, that after the Christmas and New Years Holidays pass, I head straight into planning a Birthday party, a party for that sweet little girl of mine. Emma was born January 22, 2008, and this year she was going to be 2. What would the theme be? Emma has her own opinions about what she likes, but she is not into Dora or Cinderella at this age, but she definitely loves Curious George.... that was easy enough. Being two also limits the number of guest I invite, and the list seems to be comprised of mostly family members. In my opinion this excuses me from buying formal invitations. I don't view this tactic as being lazy, I e-mail the date and time of the event, sweet and simple, and that is right up my ally.
With party planning over in rapid fashion, my husband, Chris, Emma and myself planned a quick trip for some much needed relaxation to the mountains of North Carolina. Friday morning, January 7, 2010, I was attempting to make decisions about what to pack, making sure that I included snow clothing just in case we were blessed with a winter wonderland of a weekend. There was a knock at my back door. "What are you doing up so early?" I asked my father who stood on our rear stoop. "I went to the grocery store this morning and they had so many Buy 1 Get 1 Free specials that I decided to give you the Get 1 Free. You need to put these things in your freezer. Are you guys headed to the mountains this weekend?" He was in such a chipper mood today, "Yes we are, why don't you come in for a few minutes and visit, Emma would love to see you." I could sense that he was in a hurry, "I have got to run, but I will see you when you get home." Dad bounced down the stairs, closed the driveway gate behind him, hopped in his car and left.
I finished packing, Chris loaded our van, and before 12 noon we were on our way . The drive to Asheville is gorgeous. The beauty of climbing Black Mountain is heightened by the anticipation of seeing snow capped peaks. Today we were not disappointed. Our second home is nothing fancy to speak of, but is is warm and cozy. We escape here when obligations are overwhelming us, and when the stresses from daily life are getting to be a bit too much. Our home consist of the basic necessities. We see no need for a phone line, cable TV, dishwasher, washer or dryer, but a fireplace is a must have. And, this weekend it would burn from sun up until sundown.
Our Asheville neighbors are wonderful. We are all equally excited when time permits us to venture north. We share meals together, take long walks, and if the weather cooperates we sled like we are all ten years old again. The only downfall about trekking to Asheville in the winter is that the house is so cold when we arrive. You can see your breath it is so cold. We have a plan. Chris unloads the car, I empty the cooler into the refrigerator, Chris turn up the thermostat so the radiators will start hissing and pinging (the somber racket that I dearly love especially in the middle of the night,) we bundle back up and run to the grocery store for items that I forgot to pack, or did not have to begin with. By the time we return home the house is a very comfortable 72 degrees. I sink deeply into the loveseat, snuggling my sweet Emma while Chris strikes a single match, touches the crumpled newspapers sending them into a roaring blaze. This would be a picture perfect weekend.
Saturday morning about 10 a.m. I called Dad's cell phone. "How are you this morning?" I asked. "Cold, I am cold to the bone." He answered. "Is it snowing in the mountains this morning?" He asked. "Dad it is beautiful, we have about 2 inches of snow on the ground and it is still falling." I answered. "Well, you know what I am going to say, but I am going to say it anyway, be careful." A parent never stops being a parent. "Yes Dad." I replied.
We engulfed the entire day. Our intentions had been to come to the mountains for rest, but that was quickly forgotten. Emma wanted to be outside. She had never experienced snow before. During her nap times we all recharged, thawed our frozen toes and fingers, and then headed back out to join in the festive activities that the snow fall had produced.
The snow kept us from returning home on Sunday as planned. The streets had been scraped, but the NC State Troopers requested that if travel was not necessary, stay at home. We listened. Not that Chris didn't feel confident that he could safely maneuver us down the mountain, but I breathed a heavy sign of relief. The snow was no longer pristine, Emma had lost all interest in being both wet and cold, so Sunday turned out to be a very relaxing, simple lazy day. Who could ask for anything more.
Monday morning arrived. The sun shone bright and the snow was melting quickly. By 1:00 p.m. there were no visible signs left that a single flake of white perfection had fallen. Chris and I decided to have lunch in Asheville before heading back to Charlotte. We wanted to make sure that the car ride would fall in line with Emma's nap time. The trip home is so pleasant if the car is not filled with outburst from an infant wanting to be released from the grips of a cruel car seat. I breathed deep sighs of contentment. Life was good.
We arrived home about 5:00 p.m. Being the dead of winter, and living in the south, you know that it is almost pitch black by 5:30 p.m. This is not my favorite time of year. We had just enough daylight to get the car unloaded before darkness set in for another evening. I rescued Emma from the nasty car seat and headed for the back door. Reaching the top step I froze.....I mean I was frozen to the top step as if I had just been grabbed from behind by some unknown stranger that had one purpose, to cause me harm.... I was in a complete state of panic...... Chris came up behind me. "Cathy, what is wrong." The expression on my face told Chris I was far from being okay. "There is a note on the door." I said. "Who is it from?" Chris asked. "The hand writing is my dads." I said with a voice that was not my own. I threw Emma to Chris, ripped the note from the door, frantically shoved the key into the lock and turned on the kitchen light. The note was addressed to myself, my middle sister, Ellen, and my older sister, Liz. I shredded the envelope as I tore into the contents. On a single sheet of notebook paper, in penmanship that appeared to be scrawled, not written with ease, was a message "I cannot take it anymore. Please pray for me." What had I just read. I could not breath.. "Put Emma back into the car and hurry." I barked. "What does the note say?" Chris asked. "We have to get to Dad's apartment quickly, I think something is wrong!" I replied. Bless Emma. She started crying, and I could not help her.....
The distance to my Dad's apartment is a mere three city blocks, tonight it felt like three hundred miles. When I reached the top step to Dad's outdoor porch the door was unlocked, the door to the interior was also unlocked. I was running and Chris was on my heels. I found my father lying in his bed. His chest still. A stain of blood running from the right corner of his mouth down to his cheek. He was dead. My head reeled and all I could utter was "Get Emma out of this house right now." Chris, in a panic asked me "What is going on?" I silently answered "My father is dead, please take Emma home."
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