The Visit

It had been a year, almost to the day. Sadie didn’t think her heart could break anymore than it already had. Of course it was raining today. Sadie could remember the incessant rain a year ago, as if the sky itself was weeping for her dad. She remembered the puddles at the gravesite, and everyone trying to stay dry under the small white tent while the pastor spoke a few words before the burial. But most of the events of that week were a blur: getting the call in New York that his heart had failed and he had died during what was supposed to be a “minor” surgery, flying home to Cincinnati, the funeral, the speech she gave (what the heck did she even say?), the sea of faces of friends, family, and strangers as they hugged her. She definitely remembered the rain, however. For 5 days in a row, it had rained nonstop. It had rained during the visitation, the funeral, the burial, and the meals with family that followed. It rained heavy. Everything was wet. The earth was mourning the loss of the greatest man Sadie had ever known.

How much capacity does a heart have to hurt, heal, and love again? Sadie wondered. She thought she had already gone through enough heartbreak to last a lifetime, yet here she was. Fighting back tears. Sitting in the car with him. Heartbreaker. Staring at the rain falling on the car window as Steve attempted to tell her he was breaking up with her.

She met Steve last summer, two months after her dad had passed away. At first, Steve seemed like a gift sent down from Heaven above. She actually wondered if her dad had somehow sent her a grief-present. A guardian angel, if you will. Someone to help lift her spirits after experiencing the most sad and lonely few months of her life. Might sound kooky or spooky, but grief will make you believe in things you never thought possible.

Steve was like something out of a dream. He was funny, kind, handsome, and tall. Again, heaven-sent. She had just returned to NYC after spending time in her hometown with her family, grieving the death of her father, and met Steve randomly on a warm Sunday, while strolling the Manhattan streets. They initially clicked so well—so much in common! The first day they met, they ended up walking and talking for hours over Matcha lattes. Well, STEVE talked. Sadie mostly listened.

It became increasingly more clear over the next few months that Sadie couldn’t really talk to Steve. His world revolved around him. She blamed herself, thinking she just wasn’t good at relationships.

Despite not being happy with Steve, Sadie tried to make it work. She tried to force herself to be more vulnerable, talk more about her life, be more interesting! Why was it so hard with him? And why was she so desperate to make this work?

Oh yeah, grief. Loneliness. Wanting validation from men. Wanting to be loved. Duh.

On this particular day, Steve had asked Sadie to take a drive. He suggested they drive out to his grandparents farm in Connecticut, two hours outside of Manhattan. Sadie thought he was planning something special in an effort to be a better boyfriend, to strengthen their relationship, not to break up with her. Oops.

As they sat in the car at the beautiful farm in Connecticut, Steve was talking about his “feelings.” I don’t want to talk about your feelings. Sadie thought, as Steve rambled on and on. I want to get out of this car. I want to talk to my dad. I just want to talk to my dad!!!!

Sadie’s dad was her favorite person to talk to. He was the wisest person she had ever known. He was calm and peaceful, and always knew what to say when she was upset, hurt, mad, or just needed advice. He was the best at giving advice. He was a man of few words, with a quiet yet wicked sense of humor. More than anything else, Sadie missed the feeling of just sitting next to him, soaking in his presence. Every morning, when the weather was warm enough, he would sit quietly on the front porch, drinking coffee and bird-watching. He loved bird-watching. He particularly loved owls. He used to mimic the noise they make by cupping his hand a certain way over his mouth and whistling. One year, Sadie bought him a pair of binoculars and a bird-watching book for his birthday and he loved that. He taught Sadie a lot about the value of silence and solitude, and of listening more than you speak.

Grief is a strange thing and doesn’t always feel like she’d imagined it. It comes in waves, peculiar and poorly-timed waves. It comes at moments when you least expect it, like at the grocery store when you see an older man wearing plaid (her dad’s most frequently worn shirt) and something about the look in his eyes reminds you of your dad, and you have to run out of the grocery store because you feel like you are. Having. A. Panic. Attack. Or are going to just explode in tears. It feels a lot like homesickness, the ultimate homesickness. Wanting so bad to be WITH this person and realizing you can’t. That’s true homesickness. Sadie found herself missing her dad’s advice almost every day. How she wanted to ask him what he thought about Steve, and the way he treated her the past few months. She just wanted to talk to her dad! Is that too much to ask?!

Suddenly, she couldn’t take it anymore. This car was suffocating her. Panic attack feelings were surfacing again. She opened the car door and ran. The air was fresh, and the rain felt cool as it dripped down her face. This farm was on several acres of land, and after running for a few minutes, Sadie found an old barn. She ducked inside to escape the rain and collapsed onto the hay-covered floor. She starting weeping and couldn’t stop. She wept more than she’d wept in a long time. She felt humiliated. She felt lost. Humiliated that Steve was breaking up with her, and angry at herself for being so desperate for love that she allowed the relationship to continue on for so long, knowing she was unhappy. She felt lost in life. She had lost her sense of self and more importantly, had lost her sense of worth. There was no one she could talk to who truly understood her. Her dad had understood her. He would know what to say right now. That pang of homesickness for her dad hit her strong.

A few moments later Sadie heard a rustling in the barn. She stopped crying and looked around, wiping the tears from her eyes. She looked around the old, run-down barn, noticing a ladder and loft above. She heard the rustling sound again, this time followed by a coo, or a whistling noise. Right then, perched above the entrance to the barn, Sadie saw the culprit for the mysterious sounds: a beautiful multi-colored owl. It blinked at her, and coo’d again. Call it a sign from God, an ethereal moment, something made up in her head, or an actual visit from a loved one who has passed away, but Sadie knew she recognized those eyes. She felt more sure than ever that she saw her dad’s eyes in that owl. Just sitting there, looking at her, telling her in his quiet way that one way or another, she was going to be ok.