Death and taxes

Its election day, but I wont talk about that.  This isnt really the political forum.  But I will talk about something equally as depressing, death and family. 

I am currently training to run a half marathon so I run a few miles through my neighborhood every day to help get ready.  My route always starts off the same way and I pass by neighbors house.  Last year they suffered a terrible tragedy of losing their father.  I was not close with the family but after almost losing my father a few years ago I can only feel a glimpse of pain they have gone through.  The most haunting part of all of it for me is running by the house every day and seeing his car still parked in the drive way.  So today on my little run I thought of this story....Here goes

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He walked out the back door and opened a new beer.  The cold night startled him.  The sky was clear and there was little wind.  Everything stood still.

He pulled the keys out of his jacket pocket and they dangled like wind chimes until he wrapped them in his palm.

He approached the car with caution.  The warning lights lit up the woods in the back yard as he unlocked the doors.  The leather drivers seat moaned as he sat down and shut the door.  He put on the seat belt and put his hands on the steering wheel at 10 and 2 like he'd been taught years ago.  He began to cry.

The tears came hard and fast.  he sat there with his head collapsed on the steering wheel between his two hands.

He sat up and dried his eyes.  He looke at himself in the rearview mirror.  He looked like his father.  He had always noticed their similar build but more recently he noticed him more in his eyes and furrowed brow.  He lit a cigarette.  He exhaled.  The warm smoke mixed with the cold, fall air trapped in the car.  His hands trembled.

He did this once a month.

After closing his eyes, he traced the leather trim of the door's interior and felt the crack where the left elbow wore it thin.

He looked out the car into the back yard.  He thought about learning how to throw a football and how the ball felt leaving his fingertips like the steering wheel in front of him now.  He thought of the beer his father gave him after the 1st time he mowed the yard all by himself and how different the beer in the cup holder of the car tasted to him 20 years later.

He pulled out his cell phone.  He pressed 2 and send.  It went straight to voicemail.  It always did now.  He heard his fathers voice and started to cry again.  He closed the phone after hearing the beep.  He never left a message.  He was too afraid of what he would say.

He doubled over in pain.  His tears mixed with snot. He couldnt control anything.  The seat belt locked in place.

He finally collected himself.  He finished the beer and got out of the car.  He locked the doors behind him and picked a burgandy leaf out of the windshield wipers.

He stopped at the bottom of the stairs to the back door.  He looked back at the car.  It took everything he had to walk back in that house.