Chapter Five: Daddy’s Gone

Being ignored in school as one thing but being in trouble in school was quite another. I was the good kid. I never made any more noise then was necessary. I answered questions when asked and that was it. So, it came as a shock to me when I was in US History class and the teacher received a note that was about me. The messenger delivered it, and I can remember my teacher reading it. He looked at me and I swore for just an instant there was sympathy in his eyes. “Ms. O’Brien please report to the principal’s office immediately. Take your things with you.”

I heard some boys snicker behind me as I gathered up my books and left the classroom. What had I done? Did someone blame me for something? Surely my classmates weren’t that mean.

I knocked on the door and if things could really move in slow motion, they did from that moment on. My Grammy was there, her face white, stricken.

”Sit down, Lucinda,” said Mr. Waters, the principal, “We have something to tell you and it’s not an easy thing to hear.”

But I couldn’t sit down. My legs wouldn’t carry me from where I was standing. I knew before he said it. I knew before the words were out of his mouth that something terrible had happened.

“Your father passed away today, from a self-inflicted wound.”

I must have stared at him like I didn’t comprehend what he said. So Mr. Waters came closer to me and repeated, “He committed suicide Lucinda. I am sorry.” And as he reached for my hand to comfort me, I remember my whole world slipping away.  I could hear the muffled screams of my grandmother as I fell to the floor below, everything spiraling out of control.

I woke up in Grammy’s car; someone had carried me out there, I guess. We took a week off from school, like a week was enough time for anyone to handle news of that magnitude. Our father was gone… forever.

Stevie took it hard, but not as hard as us. It just didn’t seem real to him I guess, or maybe because he didn’t know the daddy that we did once upon a time. He was impatient to go back to school and see his friends and his teachers. He was thriving in his new environment, and I guess that was a good thing. Jess was angry with him for him not being more upset than he was, but I understood, at least I think I did.

Jess took it harder than all of us. He did leave on angry terms with dad after all. The last exchange between him and our father was the sound of dad’s fist colliding with Jess’ face. That’s a hell of a last memory to have I suppose. At first Jess was angry, then he became depressed, despondent. I tried to comfort him and so did Grammy, but it did not help him. It also did not help that none of his friends came to see him. I guess no one knew how to handle death and scandal all in one blow. It was a small town after all. I could make excuses for them. I could invent them just to make him feel better, but I guess Jess felt that no one really cared. I couldn’t blame him. Not even Cindy Lou was there to lend an ear.

Me, well I can’t say I was shocked, and I’ll never say I wasn’t crushed. Losing your daddy is about the hardest thing a girl ever has to go through. For the first eleven years of my life, I was his little girl, his princess and though his attitude changed when we moved to the farm, he still teased me. He still had a twinkle in his eyes for me, and he still told me he loved me in a hundred different ways; be it a pat on the back or a ballerina or a shooting star he had carved out of wood. I still love my daddy in spite of what he did, despite even what I learned about him later.

I tried to work through for all our sakes why he did it. I think in some small way, Jessie blamed all of us for leaving him. But I don’t think it mattered. He would have done it if we were there or not. He was not himself anymore. I think momma really broke his heart when she left. I guess he blamed himself. I was just glad he waited to do it until we left. Waking up to find his lifeless body in the house was something that none of us needed.

Grammy was the first to find out. She had sent someone out there, a friend of hers that counseled people in a big city up North. I don’t remember the person’s name. I can’t think of it and it doesn’t matter anymore. That’s who found him though and that’s who called the police to come and get his body.

Momma didn’t come home for the funeral. I wrote to her. There was no other way to tell her. She sent me a post card back from some commune, telling me that she was at peace with herself and maybe he was too. It was the first inkling I had that the sixties were on their way. I hated her even more. She should have come to us when we needed her. Even Grammy was upset, and she never even liked daddy. She was upset because she loved us, and we had suffered a profound loss in our lives.

Joe sent flowers.