"Graveside" by JDeschene
I stood, looking down at my father’s final resting place, wrestling with my emotions. I searched them all for even a hint of sadness, but I couldn’t find any. Not even the twinge of shame that arose from this realization could overwhelm the strongest thing I felt: relief. I didn’t think it would be so pronounced.
Perhaps I should have expected this. The pain of seeing someone you love suffer so much---it’s unbearable. I knew it would be from the moment my father received his ALS diagnosis. Visions played out in my mind. Images of this healthy and capable man wasting away, losing every basic human ability. I imagined the pain of seeing him wither and, more selfishly, the pain of having to care for him. Of course, it all came to pass as I thought it would, only I never imagined what lay beyond the end. Of course I knew that the man couldn’t live forever, but I never once let myself imagine what it would be like when he was gone.
“I miss you, dad,” I said, as if he could hear me beneath the feet of packed earth. “It’s like losing you twice. Once to your disease, and now….”
With every word, I tried in vain to stir up some kind of pain that wasn’t in my memory. All I could do, however, was solidify my relief into a kind of giddy celebration. I was free now, yes, but so was he. That contributed to my happiness, perhaps even more so than my own release from the bondage of caregiving. My suffering had been nothing compared to his, and now the worst of it was over.
I stayed there for a long time, staring down at where my father lay. It was only when a cool breeze chilled the skin of my arms that I looked up and realized the sky had turned a warm orange. Night will be falling soon, I said to myself. I’d better be going.
I looked down at the grave once more. “I’ve got to get home, dad,” I said as I used my shovel to pat down some loose dirt. “I promise I’ll come see you often.”
I shouldered the shovel and went back to the empty wheelchair that waited nearby. It was so much lighter now, without the burden of its previous occupant. By the time I made it back to the van, the ache of my afternoon’s digging was settling into my muscles, but not even that could dampen my mood. Before starting the engine and heading home, I took a moment to appreciate the glowing sunset and be grateful. Grateful for the inspiration that had led to today’s work, and for my father’s immobility.