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Quasim

Past

Recommendation: I hope you dance by Lee Ann Womack

I sat in the front pew of the church with dark shades on.

My eyes were red and sore from crying so much.

I don’t know why the tears kept coming because I felt dead inside.

Every time I thought I had it under control, more tears poured down my face.

I hadn’t eaten in days, and the only reason I finally ate something this week was because Gams took place in my living room and refused to leave unless she witnessed me eating something.

I pacified her by having something to eat so she could leave.

Soon as I ate the food she prepared, she kissed me and granted my request of being alone. No sooner than she left, and I passed Harley’s room to use the bathroom, the food rushed up from my stomach. I barely made it to the bathroom before it escaped from my mouth.

My body was rejecting everything that I put into it.

There was nothing I wanted more than to hold my baby girl one more time.

Hear her little silly laugh while she pulled my beard and told me that it needed to be as long as Santa Clause.

When I looked into her room, I was reminded of having to give her CPR the week before she passed away.

When we got to the hospital, and she had finally regained consciousness, she smiled at me and said she saw mommy.

As much as I knew she was ready to leave me then, I still wasn’t ready for it.

Instead of me trying to ease her into it and make her feel better, she was doing that with me.

I remember when she told me that I had to pay attention to my coffee because she wouldn’t be there to tell me that it was overflowing.

I responded by kissing her forehead and going down the hall to the men’s bathroom and crying.

How was it that she didn’t get the chance to live life, and she was dying, yet she was comforting me as if I was the child and she was the adult?

I listened to Cherie’s mother talk about her granddaughter, and how much of a light that she was. How beautiful she was, and how much she would miss her. She wiped away her tears and said that she was with her mother.

I’ve never been more jealous of Cherie than I was in this moment. She was able to hug our daughter while I sat in this church numb. I felt like nothing would ever be alright again, and that I was destined to feel this way for the rest of my life.

The tiny coffin sat hauntingly in front of everyone.

It was pink with small flowers on it. I had no choice but to pick out her coffin before she died.

The doctors told me there wasn’t much they could do but make her comfortable.

Harley was tired, and I believed she held on as long as she did because she didn’t want me to be sad.

My father told me that it was something I needed to do sooner rather than later. At the time, I was pissed he was even suggesting it, and now I was relieved. Relieved because I didn’t have to make those tough phone calls or pick out her coffin while feeling the way that I was currently feeling.

No matter how many people came to hug and give me their condolences, nothing would change.

Cherie’s mother looked at me like I was a monster.

As if I had wrapped my hands around Cherie’s neck and choked her to death, then repeated the same action on my daughter.

As if I didn’t have to return back to a home with one less person.

I was in pain, and all she could think about was how she felt.

“She has one more time to look at him like that and I’m going to tear her ass up… how disgusting of her to act like this when Moochie just lost his daughter.” I heard Gams whispering to my father.

“Gams, last thing either of us needs is you snatching that bitch bald. We know she quick to call the cops and we don’t need that today. Our family knows how that bitch moves, and how her relationship was with Harley before she passed. Bitch never came around but wanna have all these fucking tears.”

I ignored my father and grandmother because I didn’t need to hear that shit right now.

Tears fell from behind my glasses as I looked at my daughter’s casket.

This shit wasn’t supposed to happen. She was supposed to grow up, follow her dreams, and then give me grandchildren.

I was supposed to go before her, while she continued to grow old, and have grandchildren, and even great-grandchildren.

This wasn’t supposed to be our reality and the shit made me angry. How could God take two people that I loved the most from me? What have I done to deserve some shit like the punishment he was putting me through.

Burying Cherie felt cruel enough and then he had to double the shit and take my daughter from me. I felt a hand slip into mine and looked at Blaze. He had tears in his eyes as he looked at me.

“I’m right here, Pop… not going anywhere… swear.”

While the tears continued to fall, I squeezed his hand, remembering how he always held my hand when we were younger.

Anytime he was scared, he would hold my hand and squeeze it.

I could always count on him leaving his room at night, and coming into my room, getting comfortable on the opposite end of my bed.

I’d wake to his feet in my face as he slept peacefully.

I would turn over and continue to allow him to sleep while promising that I would always take care of him.

Before I had Harley, Blaze was my kid. I always made sure he was good and took care of him.

It was all hands on deck when it came to making sure that Blaze was taken care of.

Now, in my time of need, he was the one taking care of me. Making sure that I was good, and never leaving my side, no matter how much I wanted to be alone. I felt my father’s hands on my shoulder, as he kissed the side of my head.

“Pop, we gonna get through this like we get through everything. Your family has you, now and forever. Harley is up there putting all things into play for you. She knows her daddy is sad, so she’s making sure that he doesn’t remain that way.”

Forever seemed so final.

I wouldn’t see my daughter again, and that was the hardest thing to come to terms with. Never hearing her laugh, seeing her smile.

My chest became tight as I thought of the last time I saw her. “Daddy, I’m so tired… I don’t want to fight no more.”

She said it so often that it started to become normal, as sick as that sounds.

I was selfish and always told her that she would get better.

I don’t know if I was trying to convince her or myself at that point.

Harley was suffering and holding on because of me.

She knew her father needed her, and she was trying to be strong like I had taught her.

When I kissed her head that night before she passed, I told her “Let go if you need to, baby. Daddy loves you no matter what.”

I never expected that she would let go and be gone that next day. That I would never hear her voice again.

That was the hardest part of losing someone. You longed to hear them again, knowing that you wouldn’t.