May 1988 Part Four

The next ten days were a weird blur. My sister and I continued to go to school. My mom pretty much lived at the hospital. My sister and I were encouraged to draw pictures for Dad and we also made voice recordings on cassette tapes for him. We (Heather and I) were told that he was burned but would be okay. We desperately wanted to see him and were profoundly offended that children were not allowed on the burn unit. My mom said that he couldn't talk because he had a tube in this throat to help him breathe. She said that he was aware of her being there and he wiggled one toe for "yes" and two toes for "no" and the toes on both feet for "I love you."

About a week or so after the explosion, we were playing in the empty lot across the street from Charlie's house. Jessica, Charlie's oldest daughter, had been my friend since before I could remember. She was one year older than me. We were running around playing some kid game and when we stopped and sat in the grass Jessica said to me "My mom said that your dad is probably going to die." Anger and denial washed over me and after returning her comment with something like " He is not! He's getting better!" I stormed back to the house. A feeling that I could not name at the time--doubt--began to make me anxious when I thought about my dad.

Sometime in the next few days I woke up and my mom was not at Charlie and Pee-Wee's (Charlie's husband) house. I was nonplussed and went to school like normal. I remember sitting in the field at recess, leaning against a telephone pole and feeling like the day was very strange. I shrugged it off.

My mom picked us up after school and said that we weren't going back to Charlie and Pee-Wee's just yet. We were going to The Hermitage, which is a historic home built in 1908 that was now a museum. It is surrounded on three sides by the Lynnhaven River which meant that whenever we'd go out on our boat we'd have to pass The Hermitage. It is one of the most beautiful "landmarks" of my childhood.

We got to The Hermitage and walked to a quiet seawall in one of favorite areas. I started my usual search for Interesting Things Washed Up on the Shore. Matthew slept peacefully in his stroller. My mom asked my sister and I to sit on the wall with her. We sat on either side of her. When she took my hand in hers, I knew.

My mom was on my right and I remember gazing to the left, looking up the wide, gray river. She said, "Girls..." and I murmured, "Dad's dead, right?" and she continued on like she hadn't heard me. "Girls, your dad died this morning."

I had known the minute that she had taken my hand that he was gone. But when I heard her say it, I whipped my head back toward her. In the second that it took me to turn toward her, a thousand thoughts flashed through my mind. It was a second that seemed like someone had hit the pause button while my mind grasped the news. The main theme of my thoughts was "How am I going to live through this?"

My sister was the first to collapse in tears, followed by my mom, and when I could breathe again I leaned into my mom's side and we just all sat there and cried our eyes out. Sprinkles of rain landed on our thighs and my mom said, "See? The angels are crying with us." And I think it might be true because I didn't see any signs of rain anywhere else though it was a cloudy afternoon.

Eventually we pulled ourselves together and trekked back to the car. I don't remember anything else about that day except that instead of going back to stay at our friends' house, we went and stayed with my dad's sister and her husband who lived in another part of our city.

I had not been aware of how severe my dad's injuries were until after he died. He was burned over 90% of his body. The is the story that I was told: He had been waiting on his friend, Pee-Wee, to come over and turn off the electricity to the boat since Pee-Wee was an electrician. While Dad's friends and my brother were off the boat and filling up the gas tanks of the cars in the parking lot, Dad had called Pee-Wee to see when he'd be over. Charlie had answered and after their conversation my dad hung up the phone. Which apparently set off a spark. Which ignited the fume saturated air in our boat. Which blew the boat sky high. Charlie had hung up the phone and, living only half a mile away, immediately heard the explosion. Apparently she realized or at least suspected what had happened and had taken off running to our place.

My Dad made his way to a window where my brother pulled him out. As expected, he was burned badly and my brother helped him down the pier and they sat down to wait for help. At this time, my dad, believing that the rest of the family was still on the boat, went back on the burning boat to get us and he sustained even more burns.

I was very angry for a long time about being deceived about my dad's condition. With all my heart I had believed that he was going to recover. But all the adults knew that he would not survive. I wish someone had told me straight from the beginning what he was up against.