Many believe that a little girl’s first love is her Dad… well in my case this is completely true. It was my Dad who first felt and believed that I may have Cerebral Palsy and as a result he challenged, loved and advocated for me with resolute passion until his last breath.
In honor of his love, legacy and zest for life, I am sharing a poem that took significant time for me to write.
Ash
Rolled myself into place in line
unable to take off my shoes.
Placed my belongings on the plastic
belt, in the plastic buckets, one at a time.
My purple and blue paisley scarf, and my black faux leather purse with the frayed strap.
A gray cloth bag which held my MacBook, latest magazine, snacks, woolen hat and gloves.
Must not forget to remove my Ziploc bag of the 100 ml of liquids as I zipped my bag closed fingers cold and trembling.
I know what is next my empty eyes searched for empathy, a kind expression as
the machine beep echoes harshly in the air.
Is it me or did every noise go silent
beep… pound…beep… pound… beep
I know what is next my empty eyes continue to search for empathic, warm eyes that can see my feelings, with cheeks on fire… HOT!
Fear erupts from within my soul about to flow like molten lava, is this why my cheeks are burning?
Suddenly a kind woman has knelt at my side, asking to hold my trembling, frozen hand addressing me by my name.
She can’t be speaking to me, I do not know her!
A pause as I catch my breath and her warm fingers envelop mine,
I hear a whisper from the distance
“Nicole, I am so sorry but we need to….
ash…”
Yes that ash
the 25% remains of my Father, my DADDY…
all I have of home that was poured from an urn, now in my bag on the plastic belt which was placed in a gray steel, plastic bucket…
Yes that ash
I opened my mouth to say,
“Do not touch him, he’s mine”
but no words escaped from within
as my salty tears fell
and intertwined with my Daddy’s ashes.
Nicole Demos
