Sunday, December 14, 2008

Sunday Scribblings: I Knew Instantly

This week's prompt for Sunday Scribblings was imagined because many Scribblers leave comments with the ladies running SS which start with "I knew instantly what I was going to write about."

That happens to me sometimes. It didn't happen to me with this prompt. In fact, the phrase only brought to mind my encounter earlier this week with a CHP officer. "I knew instantly that hitting the brakes at the moment I saw the motorcycle cop was not going to prevent me from getting a ticket." That doesn't make for a very interesting post, does it?

The second thought was this one: "I knew instantly what Youngest was talking about when he said the other boy didn't come to the Cub Scout meeting because he had those things which jump on his hair." I'm not sure that writing about the lice pandemic at the kids' school makes for a compelling post either. So I'll go back in time for this one.

I knew instantly when my secretary tracked me down in the middle of a presentation to the Los Angeles DWP that my father had died. At 3:30 in the morning, I had been awakened by hysterical crying. It was my own. I've no memory of any dream, but then I rarely remember dreams. All I know is I woke up inconsolable in a strange hotel room. It was painful and nearly unstoppable.

But stop it did, the crying and terrible pain in my soul or core or what-have-you, and I shoved it all deep down as I showered and dressed and drove to the meeting. I convinced myself over those few hours that it hadn't been so bad, that I was feeling fine, really.

When my client was called out of the meeting and then immediately returned, headed toward me, I knew, then, what it was. Not soon after, it was confirmed for me: my father had slipped into a coma in Cocoa Beach, Florida, as I was waking up hysterical in Los Angeles, California. At the instant he left, I apparently knew.

16 comments:

Fantasies of a Lifetime said...

It is amazing , how well connected we are to our loved ones. . .Sorry about your loss.

BJ Roan said...

I had an anxiety attack at the moment my mother passed away, and I was over 700 miles away. I liked the humor, if you can call a lice pandemic humor, leading up to the meat of your post.

Tanya Gwen Minnick said...

I am sorry for your loss, although I wonder if our loved ones who pass away ever really leave us. I think the universe is full of mysteries like this, how we can tune into people in times of need.
You must be a very sensitive person- which is a gift.
btw i love your profile pic, gosh I can't count the number of pictures I have of my own feet..:)
be well

anthonynorth said...

This happens so often - so many people know.

Laura Jayne said...

Wow, this is so powerful. I am sorry for your loss.

Tumblewords: said...

Well written - the way you moved from the mundane to the overwhelming was finely tuned.

Maggie May said...

this was a wonderful post. i'm sorry for your past loss.

b said...

How do you know these things instantly? You are one of the blessed that actually listen to what is being said...whether it be jumping things in their hair or the loss of a loved one.

Hugs.

b

rosey said...

I'm not sure if knowing instantly is a blessing or a curse.

Giggles said...

This is common place, a knowing when a loved one passes. I've heard many people awaken at the exact moment of death. Definitely more to our existence than we are privy to! I had many warning dreams. Thanks for sharing this post peppered with humor and sadness!

Hugs Giggles

Lucy said...

what started out as a light fun funny post turned quickly into a touching yet eerie post of loss and sadness. so sorry about your dad Patois.
you did a good job with this prompt and I hope the lice skip your house.

Lilly said...

that was beautiful.

Trenches of Mommyhood said...

Lovely post, great writing.

And good news: You won the teacher book from Day 10 of the Trenches Giveaways!

E-mail me at sarahviz(at)yahoo(dot)com with your mailing address!

D... said...

Just like life, one goes from the irreverent to the chilling. I wish knowing instantly could have happened more peacefully for you. But, how could it, really?

Tammy said...

That gave me chills! I'm sorry for your loss. It was like he was preparing you. HUG

Kelly O said...

WOW. That's amazing, wonderful, and so, so sad.

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