2.) Tell us about a time you got to ride in a limousine.
When you’re seven and your Dad dies you will have nothing to wear to the funeral. You will have worn your best church dress to the prayer service the night before and anyone who knows anything about fashion knows that you CANNOT wear the same red dress to your father’s funeral that you wore to his PRAYER SERVICE! And since your mother does not think about these things ahead of time and plan accordingly, you will settle for last year’s church dress that has been washed one too many times and feels a little uncomfortable.
You will forget all about your fashion conundrum when you catch wind that a LIMO will be picking you up at church and will escort you to the funeral. A LIMO! Suddenly this whole funeral doesn’t seem like such a bad idea after all if you get to ride to the church in your very first limousine!
But when the limo ride comes you will note it is not as long as you had imagined. You will shrug your shoulders and snag a seat next to a door because you know limos have electric window openers and if there’s one thing you’ll look forward to on the day of your Dad’s funeral, it’s watching a window move up and down and up and down with nothing more than a push of a button. Except that the electric windows on this short limo seem to have broken because they stop moving up and down altogether.
Your mother will look at you with relief that you are able to find delight in windows and limousines on the day you will be burying your Dad, but she will wish you could be just a little less squirmy since this is still not such a great day for her. She will distract you from the broken magic windows by telling you to take a look out the back window and you will see all of the cars following. She will want you to see that tribute to your Dad. You will count the six police cars escorting the nearly two mile long procession. The cars seem to go on forever, but you will lead the pack in your limousine!
You will feel glad to have your sisters and brothers, your cousins and school friends all together in once place. You will tiptoe around gravestones and you will hope to stick around long enough to watch that big box get buried because then you will know for sure he’s not coming out of it. Your Mom will hound you to get back in the limo and you can’t help but feel like she particularly does not want to stick around to watch the big box get buried.
So you climb back into the limo wearing last year’s church dress that has been washed one too many times and feels a little uncomfortable and you will be annoyed.
Because if you’re going to be escorted to and from your Dad’s funeral in a limo when you’re seven year’s old, it better darn well be an extra long stretch limo with working electric windows…otherwise the whole thing just doesn’t seem worth it all.
When You’re Seven And Your Dad Dies: The Funeral
When You’re Seven And Your Dad Dies: Extended Family
When You’re Seven And Your Dad Dies: Second Grade
When You’re Seven And Your Dad Dies: The Manger
When You’re Seven And Your Dad Dies: Metamorphosis
Stacey @ Life So Lovely says
I know that must have been a sad day. I can’t even imagine! But I’m sure that limo was a nice distraction :)
Paula Kiger says
I am always moved when you write about your dad. When my sister in law died, her son/my nephew who was six at the time was out in the yard directing traffic and trying to make a $ off of parking cars. He definitely had a sympathetic clientele……….
Dianna says
I just read your “series” on the death of your dad. How poignant each post is. I lost my dad when I was 8 months old, so I never knew him. Losing a father at the tender age of 7 is so very sad.
May says
Oh, this tugs at my heart and every maternal fiber of my soul. Every time you write about this I am so struck by how that moment is frozen in time. You are still able to write as the child you were with a child’s point of view, fears and pain. It moves me deeply especially when accompanied by that goofy, innocent face in the photo. I always wish I could hug that little girl and say it will be OK. You will grow up to be so terrific!
LADY GOO GOO GAGA says
Kat – so perfectly written. Imagine all of those little details that you remember from that day…heartbreaking.
Emily @ My Pajama Days says
This is the first post I’ve read about your Dad and I had tears in my eyes before I got to the end. I could completely picture you at seven, trying so hard to focus on everything except the fact that your dad was gone. What a powerful piece of writing – it was written in such a disconnected and non-emotional way, really highlighting what state of mind a seven year old would be in during such a heartbreaking experience. Hugs to you.
Tiffany says
I can only imagine how difficult that day was…I hope the limo provided a little levity and distraction.
twisterfish says
Reading about this through your seven year old eyes is just so touching and honest and beautiful.
OneMommy says
Your post brought tears to my eyes.
Looking at my own little ones, I understand now a little more why things aren’t as serious to them sometimes. Sometimes I forget they are just kids. Your post really speaks to what it is like to be 7 in the midst of tragedy.
Jamie@SouthMainMuse says
Wonderfully written. Such poignancy. I don’t know how or where your dress was uncomfortable but every time you mentioned it, I instinctively wanted to pull my t-shirt color off my neck. Your words put the reader in your very skin.
Teresa says
I found myself choking up as I read the moments you so beautifully described in this post. Many of us struggle to find the right words to describe life changing events like this. You have a gift.
Sharon Marcus says
What an amazing short piece. You’re a fabulous writer.
hollow tree ventures says
So touching and honest and real. Just beautifully done.
another jennifer says
Sad and beautiful at the same time. Thank you for sharing.
Melissa Kirtley (@Mel_AWideLine) says
It’s interesting what details we remember from our childhood experiences, especially the painful ones. What a sad and confusing time it must have been for you. Thank you for sharing your story.
Leslie aka Mother Robin says
So I’m not the only one whose first limo ride was to a funeral. I’m so sorry yours was for your father. I haven’t read your other posts in the series (I’m new here), but I remember my mom observing, during a crisis that my younger brothers were acting completely inappropriately during, that God gives children a special protection from completely grasping tragedy. I don’t know if you agree, but I have observed that and find consolation in it. Looks like you are finding a good way–writing– to deal with your loss, one that you will always feel. Take care.
Barbara says
I, too lost my Dad when I was young and remember that limo ride to this day.
Jennifer says
Every time I read these I realize that a 23 year age difference doesn’t really seem to matter when your dad dies.
TheKitchWitch says
Heartbreaking.