Following His Lead

I picked up my parents from the Hospice House last Monday to take them home. My stepfather, medicated and slightly confused, sat in the passenger seat.

Six months ago, I drove them home from the hospital after a round of tests. It was the first time I had ever driven my stepfather anywhere. He sat in the passenger seat that time, too. He was a little confused then, but not because of his illness or medication. But because of the way I drive. He kept looking at the speedometer.

"You drive too fast."

I hit the breaks. I was so nervous that if he would have said, You're going the wrong way, I would have pulled a 180 right in the middle of the highway.

Never letting him see me sweat, of course. It would have been an impressive Steve McQueen move. Because my stepdad is the person who taught me how to drive. Bullitt fan that he's always been.

I didn't say anything six months ago when he told me I was driving too fast. I haven't said much back to him for almost 40 years.

The Skimmer gets mad at me when I compare my stepfather to Dick Cheney. And it's true. My stepfather's never started a preemptive war, endorsed torture or connived to out a CIA agent for his own purposes.

He's never shot anyone in the face.

But, that doesn't mean it doesn't feel like he might.

Years ago, The Skimmer and I had a formal 10 year wedding anniversary party. And a group of us were mingling in the dining room. I left to get something in the kitchen and my good friend's husband -- no wilting flower himself -- appeared next to me, talking about my stepdad.

"I had to get out of there!"

"How come?"

"I couldn't take it. It was like standing next to the Chairman of the Board."

"Yeah, well. Try growing up with him! All he ever did was clunk our heads together like Moe."

For seven months, throughout this journey of pain, misery and fear, I've done everything I can to keep my mouth shut and my opinions to myself. He was always tight-lipped. Not the type to interfere in others’ business. He rarely gave free advice. It’s what I most respect about him. For months, my not speaking up was natural because that's the way I've always tried to conduct myself around him, although I’ve failed many times. Then, for awhile, I knew keeping my thoughts to myself was a cowardly thing to be doing. He was always an intimidating person but there were things I needed to say. Things that were important for him to hear me say. Time is running out and I knew I was running away instead of stepping up to seize the opportunity.

Thankfully, another opportunity presented itself on Christmas Eve.

I didn't run. I sat at his bedside as he opened up and told us what have been the most important things in his life. It was hard for him to do. Because his voice is almost gone. But, he has changed so it didn't seem at all hard on him emotionally. As he spoke, I thought if he can do it, so can I.

After he spoke of love and how the love of his family has been his greatest achievement, and how being remembered for the things he’s done and the examples he’s set is all he can ask, I gathered my strength and told him about the things I’ve learned from him that are most important to me. Things I am proud of and make me who I am today.

We talked about how he's lived by a high moral code.

The Skimmer's right. He's nothing like Dick Cheney.

Driving home from the Hospice House on Monday, he kept looking at my speedometer.

“What? What’s wrong? You think I’m going too fast?”

He nodded his head. This time I didn’t hit the breaks. I spoke up. I told him why I drive like I do.

“You’re the one who taught me to drive!”

He looked confused.

“You probably don’t remember this. But, when I was 17 we were all down in Virginia for the family reunion. Do you remember that? And we left Uncle Tommy’s house to go somewhere. He was driving the first car, you were driving behind him and I was driving behind you. You know how Uncle Tommy’s so crazy? Do you remember how he drove that day? Running yellow lights, taking wild turns, trying to lose us on purpose? And you kept up with him? And I kept falling behind, which meant you kept falling behind. I got up to a light that you two had to stop at because of me. And you got out of the car and yelled, “Blue Girl! When you’re following someone, you have to keep up!” And the light turned green. Uncle Tommy started beeping like crazy because he knew he had you! You jumped back in the car and floored it. Which meant I had to floor it! And I’ve been flooring it ever since!”

My mom piped up from the back seat, “Oh, geez.” And my stepfather pointed at the car in front of us that was slowing us down.

He smiled and shook his head. I got into the passing lane and hit the gas. Both of us knowing, there’s no time to lose.

Comments

[zombie rotten mcdonald]

excellently done.

[Jennifer]

I'm glad you took the opportunity to say the things you needed to and wanted to say, Leadfoot.

[Claire]

This fills my heart. xox

[Greg]

Nice blog... and a late congrats on your state turning colors. So did mine! (Indiana) That was an awesome night...

[Kathleen Maher]

Good for you, blue girl. No time to lose--that's always been my motto. But it means a lot more here.

[Lucy]

Perfect. I haven't read anything so honest in a long time.

[EmployeeoftheMonth]

Very real and touching. Thanks

[emmajames]

Isn't it amazing how we bottle things up and they carry such weight and we fear letting them go, and then when we do finally let them go... they fly. Thanks for sharing such a heartfelt moment. And don't ever slow down (while driving, that is).

So happy to have discovered this blog!

[emmajames]

Isn't it amazing how we bottle things up and they carry such weight and we fear letting them go, and then when we do finally let them go... they fly. Thanks for sharing such a heartfelt moment. And don't ever slow down (while driving, that is).

So happy to have discovered this blog!

[Wren]

Oh, my. You just made me teary. I'm SO glad you've had the opportunity to talk to your stepfather, finally, and tell him the important things. Even why you speed. When my own father died, it happened in such a way that I never really got to do that. You're treasuring this time you have left. It's so good, BG.

[Dan Leo]

Beautiful, Blue.

I thought of this poem by Robert Louis Stevenson:

Under the wide and starry sky
Dig the grave and let me lie.
Glad did I live and glad did I die
And I lay me down with a will.

This be the verse you grave for me:
Here he lies where he longs to be.
Home is the sailor, home from sea
And the hunter home from the hill.

[Snag]

Good for you, for knowing what needs to be said and having the courage to say it.

[yaya]

That's so funny.....He never even looked at my speedometer..but, I drive like an old lady....He did however teach me how to work the air so the windows won't be fogged....."Put in on Auto, that will circulate the air....yeh, circulate the air." Last time he rode with me.......GHUA......

[scribbler50]

Beautiful post, Blue Girl, how the single act of driving fast can be a metaphor in explaining a lifelong relationship. And how fortunate you are to have said what you needed to say before it's too late. I never had that chance, good for you.

Keep the pedal to the metal!

[scribbler50]

Beautiful post, Blue Girl, how the single act of driving fast can be a metaphor in explaining a lifelong relationship. And how fortunate you are to have said what you needed to say before it's too late. I never had that chance, good for you.

Keep the pedal to the metal!

[lulu labonne]

Good story, well told - I'll be back

[Kathleen in Oakland]

you're the best, BG.

[Adorable Girlfriend]

Just lovely. Just lovely.

I used to have a client at the Hospice of the Western Reserve. What a place! There is no better place to be.

[Sisyphus]

Damn girl that's a good story. You're so getting my votes. And my attention.

[Brando]

This is a hell of a post. Really something, BG.

[Von]

What a great post. You inspire.

[fish]

Ditto on the great post. One question though:

When you hit the breaks, were you throne?