THE BIGGEST FAN

#FindingFather

EAGLES DAY

It was Eagles Day at school and faculty, staff, and students were encouraged–if not downright required–to wear Eagles football gear as our boys in teal green headed to Arizona for the Superbowl. I dug around in the back of my closet, already aware that I had no Eagles gear.

But maybe…

My hand touched upon a soft, squishy fabric. I knew what it was. Ron’s Eagles jacket, purchased for a Father’s Day long before hospital rooms became our home base.

 Ron had been the Eagles’ biggest fan.

Why had I kept it? Most of Ron’s clothing had been donated to Good Will, except for a few items I stowed in the Memory Box Bonnie had made. Maybe I’d kept it because of the hope the kids and I had embraced Ron’s last Christmas, buying him Eagles gear and talking about going to a game in the fall, trying to bring some cheer into his hospital room.

PAIN POINT

I pulled the jacket out and held it up against me. Too big for me.  A few tears formed in my eyes. 

Did I dare wear it?

Maybe. I hung it on the hook outside my closet door. The next day, I bravely donned the jacket over a T-shirt, but tucked another sweater into my schoolbag. I’d wear the jacket  as a tribute to the man and fan Ron had been

Even if I couldn’t do it all day.

I texted my daughter. “I’m wearing Dad’s Eagles jacket. I’m not sure how I feel about it.”

She texted back. “It’s alright if you can’t do it.”

Resolutely, I pushed myself past this latest pain point and she added her support, texting  back and forth with me.

In the morning, it was fine. “Thinking of Dad,” I texted. “And how much he loved football.”

“He was a big fan,” she responded.

Later on, “Starting to feel a bit sad. Dad never did make it to another Eagle’s game.”

“He’s watching from the best seat in the house now,” she replied.

Finally, at 1:00, “I can’t do it any longer. I’m getting changed.”

Bonnie texted back. “You tried. That’s all you can do. Dad would be proud.”

CHEERS AND TEARS

And he would, I thought as I folded the Eagles shirt up. He’d be proud of the way I had carried on after his death, making a new life for myself and my autistic son, writing the story of Allen’s grief walk  in Finding Father: A Journey of Faith on the Autism Spectrum,  investing myself into my writing and supporting other writers. 

Once home, I stowed the jacket in the back of my closet. I knew I wouldn’t wear it again yet I’d passed another hurdle on my widow walk, another pain point. 

I like to think that on Sunday, as his team faces the Chiefs in Arizona, Ron–the Eagles’ biggest fan–  will be up in Heaven cheering on not only his team, but me as I continue to conquer the world. Ron will have cheers. I will have tears.

Because despite the years of hospitals and illnesses and surgeries and spousal care-giving, I was–and always will be–Ron’s biggest fan.