Upcoming Dad Memoir Excerpts
Here are a few excerpts from my upcoming memoir about my dad’s life and legacy.
“I hab bad news,” he continued, his voice still strong, calm and even. “The doctor said I hab A-L-S,”
He emphasized each letter, the combination of them beginning to punctuate my heart. “It’s fatal,” he continued. “I hab 3-5 years to live.”
My mind spun. I didn’t know what ALS was but I didn’t need to for grief to swoop in like a storm. I knew what fatal meant. And I definitely knew how to count.
Three to five years were not nearly enough for my only 60-year old dad, coach and friend.
When Jesse stood up, Ron couldn’t help but stare. He was looking at a brand new man. Jesse looked like someone had just cut a 1000 lbs of weight loose from his shoulders. His countenance was bright. There was this visible peace all over his face. He looked relieved to have finally settled the matter of eternity with his Maker. He had finally surrendered and could not stop smiling. And Ron had just witnessed a miracle.
Jesse pushed open the door to see Pastor Ron hovering over his desk, jacket on, shuffling through the papers on his desk.
“What’re you doing here?” Jesse demanded to know. His heart was now beating out of his chest.
“This is my office. What’re you doing here?” Pastor Ron asked.
“You first,” Jesse insisted. How much time had even passed between when he prayed and pulled into the parking lot. Why wasn’t there another vehicle in the parking lot? And then explained, “I’ve been calling you all day and you haven’t answered. What’re you doing here?”
“I don’t think you know me but you know my wife Kathy. I have a problem... I’ve been trying to call the pastor all day so I can become a Christian but he’s not answering. If you’re real, put him in the church. I’m turning left on Albion right now. Sincerely, Jesse.”
***this is an excerpt from my upcoming memoir on Jesse Morales’ life and legacy.***
I walked to the living room and dropped to my knees. With tears beginning to soak the ground underneath me, I said to God, “Thank you.”
My own words surprised me– like someone else had deposited them in me for that moment.
Thank you?
I had just received news of my dad’s death sentence. Thank you didn’t feel appropriate.