THE NIGHT DAD DIED
#FindingFather
NOTE FROM LINDA: I am working on the cover letter and book proposal to try and find a home for Finding Father: A Journey of Faith on the Autism Spectrum. It is the story of Allen’s attempt to find and bring his deceased father home again. But I am also following my writing coach’s suggestion that I try to bring more individuality to the two narrators–myself and my autistic son. Last night, I interviewed Allen about the triggering event in the memoir. The night my husband died. This is the (slightly edited) transcript.
ME: I’d like to ask you some questions that might help me with my book.
ALLEN: Sure. Sure.
ME: Is it alright if I take notes? (Allen nods) Would you be able to talk to me about the night Dad died?
ALLEN: Yeah, okay. I don’t think I really understand human death. Cats are different because they have no souls. So they just go to Heaven. But how can a human have a body and a soul in two different places? (shakes his head) I just can't make sense of that.
ME: It is a hard concept. I always think of the soul as the invisible part of us that we can’t see but God can.
ALLEN: (sighs) I guess. It’s easier with cats. Cats are always looking up to Heaven. Maybe because they know their souls are already there.
ME: Could be. I know death is confusing and a hard topic to talk about. It’s that way for everyone. Can you tell me about your own feelings the night Dad died?
ALLEN: Yeah. Ok. But I need to get some caffeine first. I don’t like to drink caffeine because it makes my leg shake, but this is a hard topic and I think I need it.
Allen goes into the kitchen and grabs a can of soda. He comes back to the living room and sits on the couch, taking his drink and putting it on the tray table in front of him. He places a hand, palm flat, on each side of the can.
ALLEN: Okay. I’m ready.
ME: Thank you. I’d like to know about your own feelings the night Dad died.
ALLEN: I felt like I was two people at once. It was really, you know, tra…(I wait while he searches for the word) traumatic. That’s the word.
ME: It was for me, too. I didn’t expect to come home and find Daddy had died. I was shocked and upset.
ALLEN: Yeah, but you knew what to do. You always know what to do. You called the ambulance people. I was just scared.
ME: It’s alright to be scared. I was scared, too.
ALLEN: Well, like I said, I felt like I had two brains. The left brain was saying, “Dad’s really dead!” but the right side of my brain said that couldn’t be true, that the left side must be wrong. Then the right side talked too much and took over the left side. (He takes another drink and slumps back onto the couch.) It was very confusing. It still is. (He flaps his hands, stimming.) And the voice I heard. It was really weird.
ME: Do you remember if you heard the voice before or after Dad died?
ALLEN: (thinks) Before. But also after. The guys in the black and white uniforms…
ME:The paramedics?
ALLEN: (shrugs) Whatever. They really scared me with the death talk. They said Dad was dead and I knew he wasn’t. At least, that’s what my brain told me. (He takes another drink). Can we stop talking about this now? I mean, it’s really hard to think about.
ME: (closing my notebook) Yes. But I’d like to talk again and learn more about the ice cubes you were holding in your hands while I was talking to the police. Can we talk more tomorrow?
ALLEN: Sure. Sure. I really do want to help you with your book, Mom. But just a little at a time, okay?
ME: Okay.
ALLEN: But I’m glad you’re writing it. So people can understand human death. So I can understand human death.
There’s my son, honest and raw and doing his best to comprehend something he really still doesn’t fully understand.
Are there any other ways you can think of that would make Allen’s character in the book unique?