I lost it all, but gained so much
By: Courtney Souza
Heather Haberl was her name; she had big sparkling blue eyes, highlighted blonde hair, and a smile that seemed as friendly as your best friend greeting you for the first time in months. I quickly Xed out of her Facebook profile as my boss strolled into the office of Pond View Realty where I worked as a secretary. I began to gaze out of the window onto the frost covered Main Street of Center Moriches, New York, staring blankly at each person as they walked by. In my head I wondered what she was like, but mainly how my life was going to change as I approached my return to school after a semester at home.
A few weeks later I was on my way back to UMass. It wasn’t the first time I had taken this trip in fact I was quite accustomed to it. However for some reason, my hands felt moist and I could feel my breakfast sitting at the bottom of my stomach. I wasn’t your typical returning sophomore. Freshman year I had made many new friends, gained my freshman 15, started a drinking habit and found a new competitive sport- beer pong. Then without warning my college experience came to a halt.
He drove up a week before school ended. My father always complained about having to drive me to my friends’ houses when I was younger, or having to pick me up at dance class. But as soon as I started to drive, he would jump at any opportunity to come get me. He would just sit there driving with a big grin on, lecturing me on when it was right to brake, or describing his latest idea to put a go-kart engine on the back of a wheel chair.
About two weeks after being home my mother called me into the kitchen. Stephen, my brother was already sitting at the table staring into space. My dad sat in his chair with Ethel’s [our pit bull] head on his lap feeding her their typical afternoon snack of crunchy cheese doodles. I saw a big tan envelope on the table. It held X-rays of two enormous black masses where my father’s lungs should have been. Quickly my father burst out with his typical sarcasm. “So what, I’m dying. I think I’ll just drive my Harley off into the Grand Canyon and go out with a BANG.” “Don’t you dare Cliffy, we wouldn’t get any money from your life insurance if you did that,” retorted my mother.
He died on a Wednesday morning, August 24th, 2005. It was a depressing relief to 7 weeks of hospital beds, chemotherapy, and radiation. His room was dull, and gray with a stale aroma about it. It was a gorgeous summer day, the kind I would have spent on the back of his motorcycle as we cruised around the Hamptons, everyone staring as we roared by. “His breathing has changed,” my mother said in the most exhausted voice.
Just then I grabbed his hand that was still as rough as sandpaper from a lifetime of diesel fuel and mechanic work, and said “Hi Daddy” in a voice that resembled one of a five-year-old girl greeting her father after school. He gasped, one last breath to end 64 years of air. “Mom, is he...dead?” “No Courtney.” “No Mom I think that was it.” “What? Wasn’t there supposed to be some kind of light, isn’t he supposed to rise through the ceiling? Nothing happened?!” “Mom, you’ve been watching way too much Touched By an Angel.” I felt chills rise up my back as his sarcasm leaked out of my mouth.
We had the funeral a week later. My father would have been proud of the service and blown away even more by the BBQ we held after. Burgers, hotdogs, potato salad, and corn on the cob cooked to perfection on the good ol’ grill. We put two hot dogs and a Manhattan on the rocks on the table next to his leather jacket, helmet, and a photo of his sarcastic grin. His bike stood strongly near by.
I stayed home that semester. I will never feel regret for that decision because my mother needed me. My friends however, didn’t seem to know what to do or say to console me and then they all left to go back to school.
After fall semester it was time to return to the life I left back in May, at UMass. I sent in my paper work and was overjoyed when I received my housing assignment. I was in Southwest and Heather Haberl, was the random name they had placed me with. That’s all she was then, a name.
I arrived 3 days earlier than the rest of the animals that made up what is known as The Zoo. It was like a ghost town, I think I even saw dust balls blowing around in front of Hampshire DC from the window where I gazed out of Coolidge 814.
There was a knock at my door, as I opened it two small heads peered in. Two girls appeared, one was short, maybe 5 feet, big brown eyes, golden hair from the mix of highlights and lowlights, the other taller, slim, long dark brown hair and a silly smile across her face as she let out a little giggly “Hi, I’m Kate,” “And I’m Nicole, we’re your neighbors, and Heather’s best friends.” They assured me Heather would be hours late, if not an entire day. And they were right.
The next night around 9p.m. the door swung open…there she was. Behind her was her mother followed by Kate and Nicole. All of a sudden the air of my dorm room was sucked out leaving me helpless, unable to breath. I just sat at my desk unsure of what to do or say as she unloaded her things and filled the gap in the closet. I had been home for an entire semester, and spent most of my time with my mother. What if I had lost all my social skills?
Day by day we learned more about each other. But I kept silent about my father. Eventually, the subject turned to parents. I took a deep breath. “My mother is an adjunct professor of Evolutionary Biology at Stonybrook University,” I said. “And my father was a diesel mechanic.” I let the “was” hang in the air. “He died last summer.” Heather’s eyes became warmer, and the sparkle was extremely bright as she said, “Aw, honey, do you want to talk about it?” She didn’t say, “Oh I’m sorry” and change the subject quickly like most people I told. She just sat there ears open, willing to listen and share the pain I had struggled through for the past couple months.
Heather and I became inseparable, every night our dorm room was like a slumber party full of fun, gossip, guys, and TV. Nicole and Kate were constantly over and our foursome would all pile onto Heather’s futon for continuous episodes of Friends, and on Sundays we’d order Bruno’s Pizza and watch Grey’s Anatomy.
One Sunday night Grey’s was especially heart wrenching, as a young girl was losing her mother to lung cancer. I sat there trying hard to fight back the waterfall that was pushing to leak out of my eyes. I was so focused on the TV screen that I didn’t notice the three girls that surrounded me, had eyes as glassy as mine, but their eyes were focused on me. As I glanced over to Heather she jumped up and hugged me followed by Kate, and then Nicole, one big hug of sobs. They felt what I felt.
Now I am sitting on a big wrap around navy blue couch, my feet are up on the joining recliner. I’m staring out our screen door at the white frost that has consumed our quad. It is February 19, 2007 a little over a year from where I sat paranoid at my desk surrounded by new faces. I’m alone. Soon enough our townhouse will be filled once again. Heather, Kate, and Nicole will all stumble into the door at some point and our foursome will be reunited.
I took a chance my sophomore year, spring semester. I jumped back into the pool of life and tried my chances at a lottery. Let me tell you I won big, and I would bet my father had something to do with it.
Thanks Daddy.
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