Dolly’s wedding day is approaching, but it’s shadowed with the heavy reality that Pops is dying faster than even the doctors predicted. He’s drinking more alcohol than ever, constantly disoriented, and sickly.
I’ve had to clean up his vomit from the floor countless times. The nurse is only at the ranch house on weekdays, so during the evenings and weekends, I spend the entire time caring for him.
Watching my father die is slowly eating away at my soul.
“Come on. You can take another bite. You’re losing too much weight. You wanna be strong enough to walk down the aisle, don’t you?”
I minced his chili up in the blender so it would be easier to eat, but he’s only taken three bites. He shakes his head, the skin of his gaunt face yellowed from jaundice.
“I just feel too sick to eat it, son. You’re a good cook though, just like your mom is.”
Watching his body waste away has been harder than Ithought. I’ve thought about admitting him to the hospital so many times.
But he always talked about how he wanted to die here, on his ranch. I don’t really know why, considering he’s been mentally checked out for years. But I can’t deny him that last wish. He watched my mother die in a hospital bed with tubes stuck all in her like wires. I think that mental image is part of what has haunted him all these years.
“Mom is a great cook, isn’t she?”
He nods, his hand shaking as he sips on the whiskey, mixed with ten percent sweet tea. He often forgets she’s gone, and I don’t have it in me to explain it to him again tonight.
“What’s your favorite meal she makes?”
He sets his cup down, seeming to contemplate my question.
“I guess I like her hamburger casserole the best. It’s her grandmother’s recipe. When we were first married, she didn’t know how to cook a damn thing. And she made me that casserole almost every single night for a month straight before finally admitting that it was all she knew how to cook.”
He smiles, tears pooling in his distant blue eyes.
Emotion builds in the back of my throat. I’ve never heard that story before. I was so young when my mom died. I have very few memories from before then. She had a soft, addictive smile that I’ll never forget. The kind of smile that made it impossible not to return it with your own.
“I love her voice. I always thought she sounded so soothing.”
He nods, seemingly unable to respond for a few moments. It’s just us at the house tonight. It’s quiet, quieter than it’s ever been before.
“The woman is the heart of the family. When I married her, I knew she’d be the type of woman who could handle anything life threw at her. She wasn’t expecting four boys in a row, but she’s a damn good mother.”
“The best.”
Flashes from scrapbooks I’ve seen over the years roll through my mind like a movie reel. I don’t have any separate, individual memories of her. I just have the snapshots that come with the stories I’ve heard and photographs.
I finish the last bite of my chili before taking both bowls to the sink. I made a huge pot of it so we’d have leftovers for the next few nights.
My phone buzzes in my back pocket. I tap the screen to answer Holden’s call.
“Hey.”
“Hey. How’s Pops?”
“He’s good.”
“All right. Well, we’ve got a ranch guest coming our way.”
“Who?”
“Dallas’s apartment caught on fire.”
My heart stops. I stand frozen at the kitchen sink.
“She’s okay. The boys and she just need a place to stay for a bit.”
