In My New House

I approached Natchitoches from an unfamiliar route. The other times I've driven down here, I've always taken I-49 but, since I took I-55 this time, I took a couple state highways and ended up on the other side of town. But I found my way to College Avenue. Once I did that, I knew how to get to my old man's place. As I turned onto Monroe Road, tears welled in my eyes as memories of moving him down here flooded back to me. All that hope for a new life he had. New house, new people, and no snow. As his house or, rather, my new house, came into view, the tears abated a bit. I parked, grabbed the mail, and went up to the door.

I had left my key at home but my dad has lived in the country since 1987 and hasn't locked his front door since. Walking in, I heard the television blaring. His hearing was going and he watched TV with the volume on 11. It felt just like a visit. I expected him to be sitting at the kitchen table. Instead there was just a History Channel program playing itself to no one. There was shit everywhere. It looked like my dad would poke his head around the corner any second or walk in the door. But I realized that it would never happen and I just started crying.

Taking a break from the water works, I started poking around. His answering machine and cell phone each had 3 messages awaiting. There was a half gallon jug of milk in the sink that he had pulled from the freezer to thaw. It was nothing but chunks now. On the plus side, he left a bag of chocolate chip cookies sitting on the counter. Kinda like he knew I was gonna be there and need a chocolate fix.

I spent a couple hours alternately crying and poking through stuff looking for relevant paperwork. Along the way, I of course found all kinds of stuff - pictures, enough towels for a family of 7, the pistol he kept next to his bed...he had recycled a calendar from 2003 and just wrote this year's dates in with a black marker. There were clothes in the washer so I threw them into the dryer. As I did so, I started crying again with a few tears falling onto his shirts. Considering he filled 2 or 3 dumpsters before he moved here, he sure had a lot of stuff. I figure that the canned and dry goods can be donated to a food pantry. Clothes, kitchen stuff, and beds can be donated to Goodwill or whatever it is they have down here. He didn't have a lot of furniture, thankfully. But he has 3 entertainment centers that are enormous. I remember putting one together last January - a right royal pain in the ass!

I went through some stashes of pictures and found a few from probably the early 70s. I had to laugh out loud at the sideburns my uncles had! They are gonna get shit about them from me next time I talk to them. I also found a picture of myself from 1987 or so and it should be burned along with my father's remains. If he's already been cremated, I will have to burn it myself as no one should be allowed to see it. Ever.

It's getting dark out. My brother and mom will be here in the morning. Since my bro decided he'd rather drive than fly, I just said fuck it and drove down myself. Stuck in a van for 17 hours with my mother is not my idea of fun and I just wanted to be by myself anyway. They couldn't leave til today and I couldn't bear the thought of futzing around another day. I just wanted to get here and start. On top of it, I can take the scenic route home now, if I like since I probably will not have anything resembling a vacation this year. And I've always been one to do most of my grieving alone. So tonight I do that but will have the rest of the week to be with family.

I checked the voice mail. An uncle and an aunt called. Not really ready to talk to them yet. Maybe tomorrow. Or maybe just later tonight.