Little pink houses, white picket fences, kids and a dog; The American Dream. It's all most people can hope for, and we had it, all of it. But no one bothers to ask how sturdy your white picket fence is until it gets bulldozed over. And, like most people, none of us knew what we had until it was too late.
I grew up surrounded by love. Three brothers, a sister and a Mom and Dad who would give anything in the world just to see any of us crack a smile. We didn't go on fancy vacations or have the newest clothes, but we had each other and somehow that always seemed to make up for what we didn't have. The seven of us always found a way to make things work; our family was far from perfection, but we were happy and to us, that was enough.
August 9th, 2013 was a normal summer night. My parents sat together in their office, drowning in my older brothers college paperwork, and blasting the same ancient 80's songs they did every weekend. As the five of us sat in the living room, fighting over the remote, we heard them laughing. I could always remember looking at my parents and hoping someday I'd have a husband who loved me half as much as my Dad loved my Mom. For some reason every Saturday they spent together sitting at the computer blasting Bruce Springsteen and laughing about the same five stories from high school; was enough to beat any fancy date night their friends spent months planning.
Adequately annoyed with arguing over the remote, I slipped down the hallway to eavesdrop on my parents evening, only to be ushered in by the both of them the second I got close to the door.
My mind wandered into pointless thoughts while they laughed about a party from thirty years ago. When my mom disappeared to the bathroom, my Dad turned his attention to me. "She's a dork." He snickered sipping a cold can of miller lite. I grinned, as his demeanor turned serious.
"What do you want to be Kayla?" he said shooting me a look through icy, blue eyes.
"I don't know." I mumbled back.
"Seriously," he sighed picking the sweating can back up, "Anything you want to be you can do it, I'll support you in anything you want, always remember that. When you fall we'll pick you up but you've gotta always give it your best shot okay?"
I was used to my Dads life advice at this point, he always seemed to bring a lesson into an everyday conversation.
"Okay?" he repeated looking me deeper in the eyes.
"Okay." I said.
"So what do you want to be?" he asked again.
I thought for a minute, racking my 15 year old brain for a sensible answer.
"I don't know yet." I sighed, "I wan't to help people, and I wan't to leave the world a better place because I was in it. "
"Okay," he nodded, "well get to work then."
His advice seeped into my brain as I made my way up the stairs for bed. For some reason that I don't know, but am thankful for now, I stopped, made my way back down the stairs and gave my Dad a hug.
His hug felt different, tighter than usual, and longer than most. "I love you." he said before I turned around and made my way back upstairs.
That was the last hug I would get from my Dad.
...
The next morning his heart stopped beating. Swarms of people passed through, there was a wake, a gardens worth of flowers, a funeral, and a family camping trip. Family photos on the mantle were replaced with a triangular flag in a mahogany encasing. But, somehow none of it felt real until everyone else went away.
My world stopped turning the day my Dad left this Earth, and when it started again, it was never in the same direction.
I had never lost anyone in my life up until this point and I didn't know how to deal with it. My grief came with anger, hurt, anxiety, and all five of us kids learning only a handful of people really mean it when then say they'll be there for you.
The worst part of losing someone for the first time is the realization that everyone and everything I know, will someday be gone. I racked my brain a million times trying to figure out what I could have done to save him. But instead of an answer I was left with a million unsaid words, and a future without a Dad.
The next two years came with more pain then I could've ever imagined. My grief manifested in slammed doors, hurtful words and a lot of mornings where I couldn't find a reason to get out of bed anymore. But, even in my darkest hours I knew the last thing I wanted to become was another book with no ending pages. A broken heart can't kill you; no matter how bad it hurts.
And then, somewhere along the way, I saw the sun again. I could smile and laugh and for the first time in three years, I felt alive. I don't know when or how but at some point after you lose someone, you look around and everything is different, but everything is okay.
I don't know where my Dad is. I don't know that there's a beautiful, white kingdom above us with pearly gates and angels; but I also don't know that theres not. And, wherever he is, I hope he is smiling, and I hope he is proud of us.
Today, we still have our white picket fence. It may be broken and tattered but nevertheless it stands strong.
Today, we are still the McMillan's, not broken, just a little bruised.
Stay Gold, Kayla
Dedicated to the best Dad I could have ever hoped for. This world is a better place because you were in it, I can only hope to do the same. Love always- K
