What If

What If





When she was born, her father was the first to hold her. He looked into her eyes
and instantly there was a connection. He was delighted when she smiled at him. He was a very proud father and vowed to do everything in his power to make her happy.

Their bond grew deeper as the weeks and months went by. He was the one who changed her diaper the most often and cleaned, coddled and cuddled her. He was the one who picked her up and bounced her on his lap, and talked to her in a loving way. She responded with laughs and smiles, which is all he really wanted in return. He even loved her when she cried. He was the best at comforting her at such times, as she was used to his closeness and tender loving ways.

Once, her parents left her at her grandfather's house when she was still a baby. Upon their return, her grandfather informed them that she had cried from the minute they walked out the door until they returned. He picked her up and comforted her with his voice and she stopped crying immediately. For some reason, no one else had that effect on her; no one else could assure her the way her father could.

As she grew older, he took her almost everywhere he went: to the grocery store, to the ice cream store, to pick up his wife from her job at night. Whenever he headed out the door, she would ask if she could go, and very rarely was the answer no. She looked forward to the time they would spend together. It was an unhealthy kind of dependence, but at the time, there seemed to be no baleful results from their closeness.

She slept in his bed at night, as the wife usually complained about his snoring, and went to sleep in their oldest daughter's room. The youngest daughter did not mind his snoring, even became accustomed to it. She accepted it as just one of the sounds that Daddy made. Another sound that he made was frequent belching while he drank his few beers at night after work. He would say her name while he belched and she would find this humorous. He seemed to be in a more relaxed mood when he drank, and she noticed this.

Once, when he asked her to go get him a beer out of the refrigerator, she opened it on the way back to the living room and took a sip. She did not like the taste at all, and wondered to herself how he could drink such ill-tasting liquid. Her next thought was maybe someday when she grew up she would like the taste, too. After all, she wanted to be just like her Daddy one day a long time from now when she was grown.

He took her to sign up for softball one spring, when she was only five. He told the coach she was not six yet, which was the minimum age to play, but that she was a very good player for her age. She had learned to bat well and field the ball while playing with her older brothers and their friends. The coach let her join the team, and she was excited to be on the team sponsored by "Jimmy's Photo".

She enjoyed sports tremendously. Although she was shy, she felt extroverted while engaging in sports activity. She felt a kind of high from the exhilaration of competition. Her father taught her to pitch, swim and ride her bike. When she was six, she tried to ride her older brother's bike, but could not reach the brake pedals. She crashed at the bottom of a steep hill and lost consciousness. Her father immediately took her in his arms and ran three blocks back to the house before he took her to the hospital. She had to have about forty stitches, but he thanked God that she was okay.

When she was eight, the father was transferred to Atlanta. Life changed for both of them. He had to get up earlier to drive from the suburbs to his job downtown. No longer did they live in a small town where crime almost never happened. From then on, he made sure she never went too far out of his sight in public places, like the grocery store. He wanted to make sure that nothing happened to his little girl.

He took her to the local park to sign up for softball season again. It would be her fourth year of playing on a team. He volunteered to help with the team and they assigned him the assistant coach position. She was very proud to be his daughter, as he was a well-liked coach who was fair and gave everybody her turn. He taught her not only to play well but also to be respectful of the other players and coaches. She could tell that the other players' parents liked him, too. They talked a lot with him and they joked around. He even brought a video camera to one of her games to film her in action.

One day he was taking her to practice and a song came on the radio and she was singing along with it out loud. She sang, "Billy, don't be a hero. Don't be a fool with your life. Billy, don't be a hero; come back and make me your wife!" The father looked at her suprised.

"You like that song?", he asked. She replied in the affirmative and he thought for a minute. Then he told her, "You know, one day you are going to meet someone who loves you ALMOST as much as I do." She just smiled back at him and thought, "Sure, Daddy."

She made the all-stars that year for the first time and he told her he was very proud of her. She had the highest batting average on the team, over 800; she hit the most home runs and had the most stolen bases. She played her heart out that year; there was nothing she enjoyed more than to hear her team cheer her on as she rounded the bases. She felt good that she was a contributing player for the team. Her father accompanied the team when they went on an outing to Six Flags that year. She was a little concerned when her father declined to ride the Scream Machine. Her father told her it was a ride not designed for people with weak hearts. She was not aware of his condition before then.

There began to be more visits to the doctor for her father. She learned the word diabetes, and while she did not know what it meant, she knew that her father had to cut down on his sugar intake. She accompanied him to the grocery store, and noted how he decided to try a new beer called Gablinger's Beer, with less sugar. She noticed how he drank that for a while but eventually went back to his favorite, Pabst Blue Ribbon.

Her mother started admonishing her father about his drinking. She said that if he did not quit drinking and smoking he was going to have a heart attack. Never mind the fried foods that she prepared for dinner several times a week. Back then, they did not know much about how cholesterol factored in on the risk for heart disease. This was before doctors suggested a limit on the amount of bacon and eggs a person could eat.

About this time, when the girl was in fifth grade, a tragedy happened to one of her schoolmates. The classmate's little baby sister drowned in a bathtub a short moment while no one was watching her. The teacher announced the sad news to the whole class, and there was a discussion about how a baby can drown in just a teaspoon of water. They took up a collection to buy the girl who had lost her sister some flowers.

In addition, this same year the father helped his daughter study for the school spelling bee. He told her that she had a chance to win. He helped her study for the contest just like when he helped her study for tests and to complete her homework every night. It seemed no matter how tired the father was he would always help her with her homework. She would rub his feet, as he no longer had much feeling in them, or rub his neck as he told her how tired he was. They were the only ones in the family who had much physical contact; the mother and father never embraced each other or kissed, but the father kissed his daughter quite frequently.

One day when she was heading out the door to ride her bike, he asked her to give him a kiss first. She hesitated a moment while standing there with the door open. She felt a little awkward lately, as she was coming of age and had begun to have physical changes in her body. He told her to come and give him a kiss again, and she did this time. Afterwards he told her to remember that she would never be too old to give her father a kiss. He seemed somewhat hurt that she had hesitated. Maybe he understood that she was growing up, and although he did not like the idea much, he accepted it.

She won the spelling bee that year for her school, and once again, he told her how proud he was. She went to the district spelling bee at a nearby college. There were many kids there, over one hundred, with their parents, too. She spelled several words during the contest, and when there was only one row of contestants left, a local news station was there taking pictures. This made her a little nervous, and when it came her turn to spell again, she hurriedly misspelled the word, even though she had known the correct spelling.

As she realized that she had lost the contest, she maintained her composure even though she was very disappointed in herself. She exited the auditorium and joined the other disqualified kids out in the hall, some of whom were crying. She felt like crying too, but soon her father was by her side, telling her once again how proud he was of her. She told him how she knew the correct spelling of the word, and he told her it was okay, that at least she had tried. He always seemed to know how to make her feel better, even when she least expected it. That night they watched the newscast and the next day at school, the teacher kidded her about being a movie star! She was not very comfortable about coming in eighth place, but enjoyed the attention all the same.

She enjoyed attention, unless it was the wrong kind. During one of the school assemblies, the principal announced her name and called her up to the stage in front of the whole elementary school. He put her on the spot as he announced her as the spelling bee winner and asked her to spell a word. Once again, she was nervous and could not think clearly. She just said "I don't know" as the auditorium erupted in laughter. She felt immensely embarrassed and when the principal finally told her to take her seat, she hurried quickly off the stage.

After school one day, her friend Carla came to visit her. They went downstairs to her brothers' room and played records. One of the records was a comedy album by Ray Stevens, and the name of one of the songs was Transplant. The lyrics went something like; "He's got a transplanted heart - he's got a brand new start. He may be eighty-two, but he's as good as new..." The two girls were singing along to the song and laughing when she noticed her father at the door. She did not know how long he had been standing there, but he asked her what kind of song that was to which they were listening. Then he invited Carla to stay for dinner, but she declined. The two girls felt like they had been caught doing something wrong, but were not sure what it was. Carla went home shortly thereafter.

It was quiet that night at the dinner table, as it had begun to be quiet many nights. There was only the mother and father and one daughter and son left at home, as the older two sons had taken a job erecting crossing signals in different towns in the southeast. The oldest daughter spent most of her time at her boyfriend's place. Their relationship was not popular at school, as it was biracial. It was also not popular with the father and mother, but they had problems of their own. People of another color were infiltrating the whole neighborhood. There were meetings at the high school to discuss bussing issues and many parents were against it.

One by one, many houses in the neighborhood sold, as the mostly Caucasian residents moved to different areas, farther away. The daughter overheard the parents talking about moving. She also heard some words spoken about divorce, and she heard the mother say, "What about the children?" The daughter already knew who she would want to live with. There was no doubt she wanted to live with her father.

It was April and spring had arrived, bringing with it the anticipation of change. The kids at school had been practicing for the annual field day at school in which there were games and competitions between teams. The daughter looked forward to the games, as she usually brought home several ribbons, being athletically inclined. She also was looking forward to the summer, being out of school and playing on the softball team once again. Practice had started for the Bravettes, who were undefeated and had come in first place the year before, but they had not yet had their first game of the season.

That April 28 of 1975 seemed like any other warm spring day, except her father had called in sick to work. He did not take many sick days unless there was cause to. He stayed in bed that day while his daughter and his son went to school. Later on that day, he felt a little better so he attended a baseball game at the high school where his son played catcher. It was exceptionally warm that day, and the father came home feeling ill again, so he relaxed on his favorite recliner and opened a beer.

The daughter was going outside to ride her bike when he told her not to go too far, as supper was almost ready. She told him okay and hopped on her bike to ride to the high school. On the way, she decided not to go that far and told herself she would only go as far as the elementary school. Halfway there, something told her to turn around and go home. Suddenly in her mind, she heard the word home loudly as if someone had spoken it; it echoed around in her head like the banging of a drum.

She turned around immediately and pedaled at a fast pace around the two streets that led her back to her street. On the corner was her friend Leslie, who yelled at her that her father had had a heart attack! She pedaled even faster and as she reached her house, she let the bike go rolling down the hilly yard, jumped off it and ran inside.

Once inside she saw her father sitting in his chair, slumped over and unconscious. There was no one else around, as her mother and brother were nowhere to be found. Her head spun and her heart raced as she tried to think of what to do. Had they not had a brief introduction about CPR in one of the classes in school? She could not remember the steps demonstrated; could not recall what to do in an emergency. Her mother entered the room and picked up the beer can by the side of the chair and went to empty it. Why was she worried about that, the daughter wondered.

Just then, the ambulance arrived and the paramedics rushed in, grabbed her father and threw him to the floor. She stood there and watched them work on her father. She heard one of the paramedics yell, "Somebody get her out of here!" but she just stood there in disbelief as they tried several things to bring him back to life. First, they pushed on his chest like she had seen demonstrated in CPR class. Next, they brought out the defibrillator and placed the paddles on his chest. His body was shocked tremendously as it came off the floor a couple of inches. The daughter stared at the men working on her father. Her fear was mounting as she watched and waited for any sign of movement, any sign of life from her father, but it did not come.

What came next was very shocking to the daughter. She witnessed the paramedic open his bag and take out a hand drill, and puncture her dear Daddy's chest with it. She felt unspeakable horror as she watched in dismay, her body trembling, almost feeling the pain she felt her father must have been feeling. The paramedic then inserted a needle into the hole and shot she would later find out was nitroglycerin into his heart. This was their final attempt to bring him back to life. The paramedic looked up at her as he knelt beside the lifeless body of her father. "Surely there is something else you can do", she thought. "Somebody do something... this cannot be happening!" she almost screamed inside.

She watched as the paramedics moved her Dad's body onto the stretcher beside him. They counted together and raised the stretcher up on its wheels, and slowly wheeled him into the kitchen and then out the door to the ambulance waiting in the carport. "Why are they not in a hurry?" she asked herself. "Surely they have not given up!" she panicked. "Why couldn't somebody do something?" she wondered, still in shock. "What about God? Where was he when all this was happening and why couldn't he help? If anybody could have helped it would be Him!" Then she considered the possibility that maybe there was no such thing as a God. If there was, why didn't he help? What if He just didn't care? If He cared, surely this would not have happened.

She went outside to where the ambulance was preparing to leave. They told her mother she could ride with them. Her mother turned to her and asked her, "If your Daddy's dead, do you want to move back to Chattanooga?" The daughter could not believe her mother was asking her this. She did not even answer. She did not say much of anything for a few days to come.

That night she spent the night at a neighbor's house. Their whole family gathered around the television to watch a show in which a man had had a heart attack. She spoke for the first time, saying that she hoped her mother was not watching the show. The neighbor's parents turned the channel. She did not cry yet. She did not feel anything except numbness. In the back of her mind, she kept asking why - why it had all happened. She felt like a giant meteor had just hit planet earth and disrupted her whole world. She felt displaced, to say the least.

That night she tried to sleep. She dreamed about her father chasing her to tickle her, like he had done before; except this time in the dream she jumped up on her bed and when she turned around, she felt unspeakable horror. Instead of her father waiting there to tickle her there was the face of a werewolf. She looked into the eyes of the horrid monster, but she could not scream. She woke up sweating.

She got up and went into the living room of the neighbor's house, and just sat there, thinking. Why had she had that dream? What did it mean? She still could not believe what had happened; was nowhere near accepting it. She felt like a small snake trying to digest a large prey after they had swallowed it. This was just too much to ponder.

Just then, she saw the neighbor's wife go up the stairs. A few moments later, she saw her come running down them and alerting her husband that she had run away. She spoke again. "No, I'm right here." The wife was relieved. Not many words were spoken.

Later that day found her outside the neighbor's house, bouncing on their trampoline. These were not happy bounces. She did not bounce very high, just kind of hopped a little and then her body went limp as the trampoline responded in kind. She did not feel like putting any energy into it; she told herself, "What's the use?"

Her brother Rick showed up and found her lying on the trampoline. He asked her if she realized what had happened, and she replied yes, of course - that she had been there when it happened. He told her that she was not the only little girl in the world to lose a father. She wondered what he meant by that, the way he had said it was as if he was scolding her. She wondered what the other girls who had lost a father felt like; how they coped. She and her brother walked back to the house where she could not get the events of the night before out of her mind.

They went through the living room where the horrible incident had occurred. She saw the floor where she had wiped up a few drops of blood after the ambulance left. They went out on the back deck where they talked.

"You know," Rick said. "Your father was a nice guy. He did a lot for me." He just looked at her a moment, while she thought about what he said.

"What do you mean, MY father?" she asked him.

"Oh, you didn't know?" was his reply. Then he paused a moment, and proceeded to tell her how her father was not his biological father. She had heard rumors of it before, but she thought it was just a game, the way her older brothers teased their younger brother about being adopted.

Another shocking development. She was not ready for all this. Nevertheless, she took each new experience in without responding emotionally to anything. Everything seemed to be moving in slow motion. She felt sick to her stomach and felt her head spinning. She wished the world would just stop spinning so she could get off.

A friend from my brother's high school came over to visit. The friend was the only one to pay her any attention, and she said, "Cry Cathy. You have to cry!" Cathy did not want to cry. She just wanted to hit something, to make it all stop. She kept thinking it would all be okay once her father came home. She could not comprehend the fact that he was never coming home again: not today, not tomorrow, and not ever. There's no way she could even begin to fathom that concept.

In the days that followed, she began to replay the events of that day. "What if?" she asked herself. "What if I hadn't gone to ride my bike that day? What if I had been there when he had the heart attack? Would it have mattered? Could I have summoned help in time for them to save his life? What if I had paid attention in class that day they demonstrated the techniques of CPR? What if I had been there to talk to my Dad while he was having the heart attack? What if I could have told him that I loved him and to just hang on? What if, what if, what if?" She tortured herself with these questions for a long time, until thirty years later she finally got her feelings out on paper, where she could look at them, examine them, and let them go.

"What if... everything happens for a reason? What if... our life on earth is just the beginning? What if... people who have passed on can still know that we love them? What if... God has it all under control and has a wonderful plan for each of us. What if... we cannot see that plan the way a caterpillar cannot see that he will become one of the butterflies flying over his head? What if... it all makes sense one day as we are all reunited and the truth is finally revealed to be what it is? What if... love is where it all started and where it all goes, and there is no end to it all? What if... God loves us enough not to let us know the whole truth yet, but that He has great designs for us in the future? What if... we can be assured that all is well with the universe in the here and the hereafter, right now and forever more? What if?