I open the door to my father’s new room and help guide him inside. The room was relatively empty with just a medical bed, cardboard boxes of his belongings and his favorite chocolate brown leather recliner in the center of the room. He holds onto my forearm as I help guide him down into his chair.
“What a nice room,” I say quietly.
He settles down into the chair getting comfortable as I push his walker next to him. His hand slightly shaking as he braces himself against the arms of the chair. I smooth out the sky-blue quilt on his bed and fluff the pillows. Anything to distract myself from the faint medical disinfectant smell.
“It’s perfect for me,” he replies just as quietly.
I walk over to a box in the corner and take out the large silver framed wedding photo of my parents. I hold it firmly in my hands and turn around to face him questioningly.
“Where would you like Mom’s photo, da?”
“Wherever you think it would look the best, Amee,” he says.
I breathe a contented sigh and walk across the room at an empty wall on the other side of the bed. I place the frame carefully on the already present nail and straighten it against the cream-colored walls.
“Perfection,” I say, backing up to make sure it’s level on the wall.
“Thank you, angel girl,” my father breathes.
I grab his clothes already on hangers in a pile from another box and hang them up in his open closet across the room.
“So, dinner is at five o’clock. I believe it’s meatloaf, mashed potatoes, and salad. They will come by at seven pm to give you your night meds and eight am for your morning meds. Carol will be by at ten to take to your physical therapy appointment and I will do the final move-out at the trailer and hand over the keys,” I say, breathless from talking so quickly.
“Amee,” he calls quietly.
“Breakfast is at nine and lunch is at twelve,” I say, as if I was reciting from a piece of paper.
“Amee, stop. What happened?” he asks firmly.
“Da, Lucas just changed his mind,” I whispered.
“Changed his mind on what? A career?” he asks confused.
“On me, on being with me. He wanted to be with someone else, someone smaller than me,” my voice trailing quietly.
“Honey, no man worthy of you would ever do that to you,” he says.
“I can’t help but think that I missed out on so much. I planned my life so far in advance that I missed the important things,” I tell him.
“You graduated with the degree you wanted. What do you want now, Amee? Not what Lucas wanted. Not what I wanted. Not what Nonna or Nonno wanted. What do you want?” he asks pointedly.
“I want to see the world. I want to go across the world and see the things I learned in my textbooks up close and personal,” my voice cracking with a hitched breath.
“Then do it,” he says.
“Yeah, I will get right on that, Da,” an amused smile gracing my lips as I let out a scoff.
“You have to have the courage to live without the ones you love and let them go when their time has come because they never leave you. Never let go of your dreams because they are dreaming--” he says.
“Right along with you,” I finish his sentence tearfully.
“Your Nonna loved you so much. After we lost Mia, you were all we had left of her and were her greatest achievement, her greatest joy,” he says.
“I wish I knew her,” I say, sitting down beside him on the arm of his recliner.
“Your Nonna knew that there was something special in you and she knew that at the right time I would know how to help. In the first page of the journal you found,” he tells me.
“I didn’t find a journal,” I reply with nonchalance.
“Right, my body doesn’t work but my brain is sharper than a tack,” he says, pointing to his forehead.
“The first page,” I say in amusement.
“The first page will hold an envelope, and in that envelope, will be everything you need. Dollars, pesos, pounds, everything you need,” he says.
“Wait, what are you saying?” I asked confusedly.
“Your Nonna and Nonno saved for decades for you. They wanted you to see the world, on one condition,” he says.
“What’s that?” I ask.
“You have to promise to stay away from Italy, Amee,” he says.
“Italy has always been off limits,” I agree.
“Maybe your grandmother wrote about it in her journal, and you will find out why one day, but until then, you need to stay away,” he said.
“Absolutely, but I can’t leave you, Da.”
“The hell if you can’t,” he argues.
“I can’t leave you when you need help,” I tell him.
“And I have help. Carol will help me. You go and see the world. Have the best couple of months and I will see you when you get back.”
“Da,” I breathe.
“Send me a postcard?”
“Absolutely,” I say as the tears stream down my face.
“See the world. That’s all we wanted,” he says, pulling me in for a tight hug.
“You got it,” my voice hitching with emotion as I tuck a strand of hair behind my ear.
* * *