A Divine No

They wouldn’t let me in. I made what could be described as a pilgrimage to the hospital where my father died, but the person at the desk said I was not allowed to return to the floor, nor the waiting room where I spent three months forty-four years ago. My intentions were to access emotions and to honor the 20-year-old within me who had no idea how his life was changing at the time. As sincere as my intentions may have been, the world, or those in it, had other thoughts. I went back to the parking garage, taking solace in my having made the effort before my flight home.

I was in the area to visit my daughter who had recently begun a job in this very familiar part of the world. While she was at work, I wandered the roads back to my college, walked the paths, and peered into classrooms. I went into the town and entered the church I attended and the classroom where I taught my first Sunday school class. I also went to the cemetery where my ancestors are buried, including both of my parents. Looking down and seeing their names carved into stone always causes me to gasp. Because I bear my father’s name, it’s a small leap to imagine the stone that will one day lie beside their’s.

I expected to be filled with thoughts about the past, but I wasn’t. In both my writing and my walking, I kept thinking about the days ahead: Instead of my father who died, I thought about me being a living father; instead of thinking about my shortcomings as a creative writing major, I took pride in having recently published a novel; passing the local bar where I spent too much time, I gave thanks for my sobriety; and sitting in the creaky pew, I thought not about my faith back then, but the one I have now.

Like the woman at the front desk of the hospital helped me see, maybe we don’t need to go upstairs and wander the halls. Maybe we need to get back in our cars and focus on the road ahead. Who knows how much time we have left? It would be unfortunate if we spent it scratching the dirt in hopes of uncovering our past when it’s within us. The trick is to honor it while walking forward.

I think the woman at the desk provided a divine no, a closed door, if you will. It caused me to turn around and live the life already in progress. Today will be my past, after all. I should make the most of it.