It was late on a Sat. afternoon, about 1966 or so, and we'd all been outside playing for hours when Mom came outside to find Dad. I told her I thought that he was in the backyard. Apparently he had a phone call.
Shortly afterward, Dad came out through the front door with Mom. I think I was roller skating but I remember seeing them talking on the porch. Then Dad took off walking down the street. "Where are you going, Dad?" I asked him. He waved me off. Said he'd be back in a few minutes.
I watched Dad knock on a door a few houses down and then go inside. I had seen the family but I didn't really know them. I don't think they had lived there very long. I had met the Father in our yard a few times when he and Dad were talking. He was a tall strong retired Navy man. I knew they had a little boy, but he was too young to hang out with Ron and me. I don't remember Ron being around that day when Dad walked to their house, maybe he'd been at baseball or football or something. I don't remember.
It was awhile before I saw Dad walking back toward the house and I knew something was wrong. I stopped and watched him as he approached me. "What's wrong Dad?" I asked him.
"There was a terrible accident this morning," he told me. "Don Beyers drowned."
Don Beyers was my friend Teresa's father. They lived just a few houses down on the other side of the street. "How?" I asked. "What happened?"
Dad and I sat down and he told me the story. The Navy Dad, I think his name was Jimmy, had taken Don Beyers and his son fishing that morning. I don't remember what kind of a boat he had, but while they were on the lake, the boat capsized, and the men were not wearing life jackets. They were a long way from shore. Close to a mile I think. Jimmy grabbed his son and saw Don panicking in the water, so he went to him and tried to get him to relax. Don said that he wasn't a good swimmer. Jimmy knew he couldn't get the boat flipped back over by himself, so the only choice was to swim to shore. I don't remember if Jimmy's son was wearing a life jacket, but he started for shore with them both. It was too much for Jimmy. The shore was too far, so he left Don by the capsized boat. Told him to hang on and he'd be back. When Jimmy got back to the boat, Don had let go. He didn't see him anywhere.
Dad's eyes filled with tears as he recounted to me how Jimmy dove and dove looking for Don's body. Already exhausted from swimming to shore and back, Jimmy knew his son was waiting for him on the shore scared and alone. He had no choice but too swim back to shore while he still could.
I think I was crying now too.
Dad told me that his Navy training is what saved Jimmy and his son. He was an incredible swimmer. Most people would have never made it back to shore.
Dad said that Jimmy sobbed while he told him what happened. Overwhelmed with grief by Don's death. Dad's tears spilled from his eyes.
I suddenly thought about Teresa and Wanda Beyers as a whole new wave of grief swept over my little girl spirit. Teresa's Dad was dead. I looked down the street where she lived. Her driveway and the street in front were full of cars. There were people in the yard.
Mom told me later that we needed to go see them. In a day or two. We'd go to their house and tell them how sorry we were.
My stomach hurt so bad that night. For days, really.
When we went to the Byers house, Mom carried a casserole, I carried dessert. Then Mom sat on the couch holding Wanda's hands in hers. They both had quiet tears.
Teresa and I went to her room and we sat on the floor with a pile of Barbie dolls. We dressed them, undressed them, the dressed them again. We didn't really talk.
I said goodbye to Teresa when Mom came to her bedroom door. I don't think I ever saw her after that. They moved away soon after. Mom said they needed to be closer to family. That helped me more than anything else. I didn't have to think about them if they weren't there and my stomachache went away. And they were with their family. And I knew that was good.
And my Dad...I knew that day that my Dad cried. And I had cried with him.
No comments:
Post a Comment