Originally published in Persimmon Tree Literary Magazine
1971
Rutgers University; married student housing, both graduate students
still newlyweds
me, 22
teaching 3rd grade
husband just turned 25
making the trek from New Jersey to Flushing, New York one Friday
unusual for us but planned on dinner with his parents
older, established, stable
his dad, brilliant, cerebral, quiet Eisenhower look alike
law and engineering degree
his mom,
factitious, tasteful, slight air of pretension
life force of the two
gentle chill in early October air; his dad had the day off
perfect
for 9 holes of golf
lovely table set; stuffed cabbage – her signature dish
visible note on the table stating he’d be home at 6
my husband’s father and my husband wrote the book on punctuality
if they say 6, it’s not 5:59 or 6:01, it’s 6:00. Sharp.
which came, and went
could be traffic. Maybe he joined a slow-moving group
“let’s eat” my mother-in-law declared
her house, her rules
couldn’t taste a thing, though – too eerie
someone at the door!
there he is! but why the front door? no one comes in through the front door of the house. Only the side.
it’s not his dad at all
two police officers, one fat, one thin, looking for the upstairs neighbors
why the neighbors?
chubby one said they had news they wanted the neighbor to give his mom
WHAT? my husband, frozen, statue like, asked for the news
his mom, behind me, like a shy child hiding from strangers
police officers
don’t lie
why are they telling us this
he left perfectly fine to play golf, at 66 years of age
but
died
on the 9th hole
watched the light leave my husband’s eyes
never to fully return
his mom rushed to the garbage can where that note now was
smoothed it out, caressing the paper
calm, secure household morphed into controlled confusion
no crying, wailing,
methodically, trance like
my 25-year-old husband turned into the man, not the son
need to identify body, plan funeral
many months later, per her wishes move his mom to a studio apartment in Manhattan rather than remaining in the large home of his childhood
my husband, always strong, dependable, reliable
became more resilient to life’s challenges
every future milestone - joyous tinged with grief
his dad didn’t see him grow into manhood
receive his doctorate
move cross country
meet his beautiful grandchildren
gradually
a transformation occurred
he embodied his dad’s spirit
five decades later and still will never again
eat stuffed cabbage
always wondered
did his dad take the swing
what went through his mind
and heart
before
he died
on the 9th hole
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