Untraceable

Survival Skill #51

When hiking, always mark your trail so you can easily find your way back.

~

I have no idea how long or why I sat there holding Dad. Maybe because I was hoping he was asleep and would wake up. That I’d made some bizarre mistake, and he was still alive. That everything I did had amounted to something. That Tommy’s death had a purpose and was not just a big fat waste.

My sobs reverberate throughout the small space. I clutch onto my dad’s shirt and moan, shaking him slightly. “I’m so sorry. Please, please don’t leave me.” His face is peaceful and relaxed. I take out a cloth and wipe the dirt from his cheeks.

Suddenly, I’m overwhelmed by all the things I’ll never know about my dad. Things I never thought to ask. What was he like when he was young? How did he feel when he met Mom? And what did he think about the day I was born? What did he want me to be when I grew up? What made him the happiest?

Now, I’ll never get the chance.

I bring my head down to touch his forehead for my last goodbye. My mind explodes with total grief for everything I’m going to miss about him. All the moments we’ll never share. All the time I wasted taking things for granted. But mostly, that I couldn’t save him.

No matter how hard I tried, I failed.

Sadness is replaced by anger. Why did he have to die, now, right after I found him? How could he leave me after everything we’ve been through? I wish I could rewind the last few months. Go back to that spring morning when Dad left and pause life for just a second. Run after him and beg him not to go. To change the events by changing time. Keep him home. But I can’t. The only thing I can do now is get him back so he can have a proper burial.

So Mom gets her chance to finally say goodbye.

“Bye, Dad. I love you.” I start to cry again as I cross his arms over his chest, promising to come back for him.

Then trying to collect myself, I wipe my face and force myself to stand. I peek out the makeshift door, listening for gunfire.

All is quiet, as if the woods have completely forgotten the invasion. Oddly, everything out here has already gone back to normal.

Yet from now on, my normal will never be the same.

I push the vines back and climb out over the dead logs blocking the entrance. An owl hoots above me. The noise sends my heart into spasms. I strain to spot the large bird soaring through the trees before being swallowed by the leafy forest.

Native Americans believe owls guide spirits from this world to the next. I wipe my eyes and recall the poem Tommy said at Ama’s funeral.

I whisper one of the lines to the wind. “There is no death. Just a change of worlds.”

Cautiously, I walk back toward the camp, hoping I can spot Mo. My shoulder is now throbbing with pain, my arm coated with blood. As I stumble along the path, I feel like a big heavy wet blanket has been draped over me. My body is anchored to the earth, my feet feel sluggish, and my mind is foggy. Like it will take everything I have to make it back. At one point, I just want to collapse to the ground, cry, and let the woods swallow me so I don’t have to face what has happened.

But I push on. For my mom. She can’t lose two people. It will kill her.

As I backtrack along the trail, I do my best to tear small strips of material off my t-shirt and tie the small pieces of cloth to various branches, marking the path so we can locate Dad. I have no choice but to head back to camp. It’s the closest place that might have some food or supplies. Seems totally stupid but it’s all I can think of right now. I can’t help but wonder what I’ll find when I get there. Maybe I’ll find Mo.