Jessica Lehto - Blog

Jessica Lehto - Blog

07 - The day after

20091208Posted by Jessica Sat, November 12, 2016 19:17:06

(About a year later I'm back. I suppose it's this time of the year when these thoughts are so much more present.)

After 1 or 2 luxurious hours of sleep I woke up to my first day without a father. A strange feeling; constant, but also hard to grasp, spent the day with me.

A lot needed to be done during this day. Lots of packing since the house had to be put up for sale. No more would there be a childhood home to return to.

Cleaning out the garage was the worst thing we had to do, my brothers and I. Here, dad had built so much - the hobbyhorses for me and my sister, the dollhouse for my sister, among so many other things. As children my sister and I played endless hours with these items in particular - the hobbyhorses were so well exercised that during a couple of summers, a "riding" track was visible on our front lawn.

And then there was also the miniature railroad my father started building when my older brothers were small and that he wanted to finish eventually. Eventually never came. This object was too large for anyone of us to bring home, so it was picked apart instead.

There are so many things to deal with once somebody dies. What do you even do with all the stuff that person left behind? What use a book in Finnish, a language I don't understand, would have to me perhaps doesn't make much sense but it felt important to keep some of his things around. Little pieces of what once had been his life felt so valuable. Some years later I did throw it away, I guess it had served its purpose by then. I'm still keeping his shirt around though, the one he forgot at my place during his last visit - I did not discover that shirt until some months after his passing. The feeling when I found it. First not recognizing or understanding, then seeing the little hole in the fabric right by the shoulder, remembering how mum had commented on how he hadn't so far agreed on her sewing it... That feeling. More things still remaining in my home are his reading glasses, and the final Christmas gift I bought for him that I had wrapped up but didn't send out before life took this strange turn.

On that first day of not having a father, a phone call came to the childhood home. The autopsy of our father's body was performed. The cause of death was a heart attack. The irony. My father always had the kindest of hearts.

In front of our house, on the cold winter day of December 9th, the bed in which our father died was smashed to pieces by my oldest brothers.

Fill in only if you are not real

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Posted by Jessica Sat, January 07, 2017 20:55:51

Perhaps it was indeed later, I'm not sure. According to a diary I kept at the time it seems to have happened the day after, but I hadn't written it on that day itself. Well. Anyway.

A lot of self preservation, I think, but combined with having a dark sense of humour indeed.

Posted by Old Brother Sat, November 19, 2016 18:18:50

Yeah, I remember smashing the bed to pieces. Some things, like the phonecall from the autophsy, I remember slightly differently. I recall the phonecall and the voice talking to me, but as I recall it, they called a couple of days later. Not that it matters. I also recall me and your second biggest brother making awful jokes for several days after dad leaving. Dark humor? Or self preservation? Dunno. It did feel like dad would have laughed with us, had he not been dead and all, causse he had kind of a dark humor himself to...