The Last Package

It was spring break. I decided not to go back home but rather catch up on my studies at school. I made a surprise visit the last month so I figured this week I could catch up. I called my folks because it was their anniversary. Dad picked up the phone.

“Hello,” he said, more as if he were asking instead of a greeting.

“Papi?, it’s me Tommy,” I said. He sounded confused almost as if he did not recognize my voice.

“Hello…Tommy?”, he asked, like he was trying to convince himself.

“Papi, Happy anniversary. Hello…Papi”, I said.

“Oh… Tommy…you ok? You eating? You need money?” He was always concerned over the everyday basics. This time I was concerned because he sounded like he was not there.

“Aye send you something…ok?, “ he said, with that slight Spanish accent of his.

“Papi, can you hear me? Let me talk to Mami…is she home?” I asked.

“Tommy?…You mother is here…hold on…Eat..I love you,” he said.

My father openly told all his kids how he felt about us-love. I never knew what to say in return. “I love you too” would have been appropriate. He hugged us. He joked with us and yet I could not tell him how I felt. I thought that maybe since I told him during my last visit that would have made up for all my years of silence.

“Me too,” was all I could muster. “Is Mami there?”, I asked.

“She here..eat…Study …ok…Keep your mind busy.” he said.

“Mami, is he ok?” I asked my mother.

“He’s going Tommy,” my mother said.

“What do you mean? Should I come down?” I asked.

“I don’t know. You have work no?” She said.

I felt stuck. Should I take another trip home? How can I catch up? Dad always said that he would be ok, that he would fight the cancer. During my last visit I had a bad feeling about whether I would see him again. In my mind, I felt comforted that I finally told him how I felt for him. He sounded so far away, further than the physical distance.

“Happy anniversary Mami. I’ll call tomorrow. Let me know if he gets better,” I said. I hung up, not knowing what would be the best move. I headed back to my studies, not clear or level headed. My meandering thoughts floated as I drifted off into a dream. There I was in a chess shop looking at this long brown rectangular box. It was wrapped in a brown paper grocery bag, the type my mom used to wrap our textbooks when we were kids. I saw my dad’s maintenance man uniform folded neatly on this 8’ by 4’ box with an oversized postage stamp in the corner. I heard laughter in the next room with whips of smoke coming out of that room. Behind me I heard the tick tock of various clock with intermittent slams. Tik tik tik slam…tik tik…slam…tik tik tik tik….slam…I turn around and see three couples playing chess with what seems to be judges standing over each couple. The judges would whisper to each other, nodding approval at some instance, then shaking their head in disapproval. The players never looked up. I then saw my mother pass by the the long box, shaking her head, often looking down. I tried to speak but nothing came out, only a gasp of air as I struggled to speak.

I exhaled loudly, as I jolted out of my sleep-three in the morning. I crawled into bed and hid myself, fetal-like under the covers. I need to go home, I said to myself as I fell into a deep sleep.

The next day I started packing. I could not get it out of my mind that I needed to see him again. I got on the phone with my best friend Paul. We talked back and forth about staying versus going. We talked sports. We talked about our respective women.

“So what do you think? Should I come down?’ I asked.

“You should if you think you can spare the time,” he said.

I did not know what to do, but the conversation was a great distraction. We spoke for hours as I was packing. When I got off the phone, campus security was knocking on my door.

“Excuse me, are you Tommy?” asked the campus guard.

“Yes, is everything ok?” I asked. At that time, my girlfriend called. She was in NYC for break.

“Kiddo, you ok?” she asked. I called her kid, she called me kiddo. “There’s a guard here, what’s up?” I asked.

“Call home kiddo,” she sounded serious.

“What’s wrong? Are you ok?” I asked.

“Kiddo, call home,” she said again.

“Ok.” I finally said after a brief silence with an achy butterfly pulsing at my gut.

“I am ok sir. Thank you for coming,” I said to the security guard. Apparently my girlfriend tried calling me and could not break through my phone connection with Paul. She called campus security to reach me.

I called home as my brother picked up.

“Rod, it’s Tommy. What’s going on?” I asked.

“He’s gone. He’s gone,” he was on the verge of crying.

I caught my breath. My mouth opened but nothing came out-no words, no heat, nothing.

“I was packing to come down anyway,” I finally said, with a slight awkward chuckle.

“Is mami and sis ok?” I asked.

“They are in the bedroom. The ambulance took him. He’s gone Tommy. He’s gone,” he said in despair.

“It’s ok Rod, I’ll be home. I’m taking the first bus down.” I said.

I spoke to Mom and sis to assure them (me) that all will be ok. I hung up the phone and simply stared at the receiver. My heart felt hollow and constricted with a dull pounding ache.

“AGHHHHHHHHH…..Noooooooooooo!”, with a loud shout that I never evoked, startling myself. I don’t know why but I punched the wall but I created a deep bloody bruise on my pinky knuckle. The scar remains to this day.

The wake, funeral mass and burial were all too clear. I cried like I never cried before. I regretted never having gone down earlier. I regretted not having gone down for break. I regretted having chosen a school so far away. I stayed an extra week to make sure Mom was ok, I then went back to school.

Everyone who I knew and did not know gave me their condolences. I did not know what to say. “Thank you” “ok” “I guess we were close” “He was my dad”. I did know what to say or what to do with all of the gifts I was receiving. I got to my dorm room and there on my bed were letter and well wishes. I pushed all of the mail to the side and there it was. It was a rectangular box with a prominent postage stamp in the upper right corner. The hand writing was all to distinct, I did not know what to do.

I sat on the bed, staring at the package.

“Kiddo, you ok”, my girlfriend asked me as she walked into my room. I pointed at the box. She approached me widening her eyes in surprise. “When did you get that?,” she asked.

“It looks like it got here a few weeks ago. Spring break delays everything.” I said.

“Are you going to open it? She asked.

“I dunno,” I said. “I’ll sit on it until I’m ready.”

“Ok kiddo….I love you,” she said.

“uhmm…ok…yeah me too…thanks,” I answered.

She left the room. I probably stared at the package for another 10 maybe fifteen minutes. It seemed like hours. I opened the sides very slowly. I tried not to wrinkle the smooth brown wrap. Out slipped a a box the size of a breadbox. I noticed a slip of paper that floated to the door. In the box was an aluminum dark blue cookie tin can. There were juice boxes that would have lasted a month if I took one a day. There was a small jar of Flintstone chewable vitamins. There was finally a box of ritz crackers. This was the last care package my Dad sent me. He was telling me to eat, so he was making sure I did. He never mentioned having sent it.

I looked on the floor and saw his usually note. Hands shaking, I picked it up.

“Tommy, here’s a few things to munch on. Don’t get fat ok.

Mira, the world is yours. I am very proud of you. Study and take care of business.

We miss you. I love you.

your Da-da”

I love you too Papi. I love you too.