Bringing the Light

17. The Boy With No Name

Dad died two days later. When it was obvious to the staff that we were looking at mere hours, they let all of us in the room with him. I was there when he took his final breath.

My dad. The only dad I'd ever known and the only dad who'd loved me was gone. It hit me so much harder than when I'd learned my birth mother had died. He was my rock. The reason I was where I was now. I didn't know how I could function knowing I'd never hear his advice anymore. He'd never cheer at another baseball game. There'd be no more games of catch in the backyard when I was home from school.

I helped Mom plan his funeral. Toby and Erin, too. We decided to have it at the graveside. That way everyone wouldn't have to drive from a church to a cemetery and then back to our house for the reception. Spencer and his mom helped set up for the reception and Angela, my girlfriend, flew in when I told her what was happening and why I'd left without saying anything.

The day of Dad's funeral was sunny but with a cool breeze. I put on my suit, the one Dad had bought me for my high school graduation. It still fit. But I wore a Looney Toons tie that he'd given me one time as a gag gift at Christmas. It was perfect. Dad was such a cartoon himself.

Mom had asked me to give the eulogy. I stressed over it and then, instead of just writing out a whole speech, I wrote down points I needed to make sure I got across. I'd basically wing it otherwise.

When it was time I went up to the lectern where the pastor had been doing his thing. I looked at the small group gathered around Dad's casket. Some friends of Mom and Dad's, some of Dad's colleagues and relatives My grandparents, neither set of whom should be burying my dad. Mom, Toby and an inconsolable Erin. Toby was being stoic, but just last night he'd asked to sleep in my room and had cried for an hour about Dad. And Mom was just cried out. And I looked at Angela and she smiled encouragingly at me.

"Good afternoon," I started. "I really didn't want to be here today. Not yet, anyway. Dad had so much life left.

For those of you who don't really know me, Dad and Mom are the reason I'm standing here today. They adopted me when I was 16. I know that sounds old to adopt, but they did. Without them, I don't know where I would be now.

I met David and Mandy when I was fourteen. They were my foster parents and from day one, Dad made sure I knew that he had high expectations. Yes, he read me the riot act. But if it wasn't for the rules he insisted on, which my brother and sister also had to follow, and for the guidance he provided me, I don't think I'd be attending college right now. I wouldn't have had anyone to make proud.

But I wanted to make Dad proud. And Mom, too obviously. Dad would never let me get away with one or two word answers. He made me think. He made me learn and he forced me to grow.

Dad was strict. He had rules. We were expected to follow those rules. And we did, because Mom and Dad made it easy to follow their rules. We never wanted to disappoint them, though I'm sure we did occasionally. We were kids.

I don't have the time to tell you all the amazing things about Dad. We could be here for hours. But I want to share with you the last things my dad said to me. It's really good advice, so, Toby and Erin, listen up," some people laughed.

"The last things my dad told me was to be proud of myself. To be proud of who I am and who I've become. I want my brother and sister to know Dad was proud of you two as well.

The second thing my dad said was to be good and do good things. Everyone should strive for that. Be good and do good things.

And the third thing he told me has two parts. One, always remember where you came from. It's what makes you who you are. We all come from different experiences, even in the same house. So remember where you came from. And this is really more for Erin and Toby, but it's applicable to anyone who knew Dad. Remember how much he loved you. And Dad loved a lot. He was my rescuer, my hero. He was my Dad."

Tears fell from my eyes and my voice shook. But I made it through. I hugged Mom when I was done, then my siblings and grandparents.

"That was beautiful," Grandma Foster said. Grandpa Foster clapped me on the shoulder.

"Your dad would have loved that eulogy," he said.

I went back to my seat. Angela wrapped her arms around my arm.

"That was so beautiful," she whispered to me. I smiled a little at her.

Dad's casket was lowered into the ground and we left as the cemetery staff shovelled dirt on top. The sound of clumps of dirt and rocks hitting the casket made the whole thing so final. Dad was really gone.

I dropped to my knees and sobbed. Mom wrapped her arms around me and pulled me up. She whispered to me that it's okay and I'm going to be okay.

I felt like I'd never be okay again.

Back at the house Mom and Dad's friends kept coming up to me and complimenting my eulogy, asking my brother and sister how they were holding up and checking in with Mom.

My granddad asked how school was going and how the team looked for the rest of the season. Dad's colleagues introduced themselves and told us some funny stories about Dad at work. Their friends did the same. Courtney, Dad's sister who I'd only met a couple of times because she lived abroad, came and sat with us for a while.

Finally, everyone left and the only people left in the house were me, Mom, Toby, Erin, Angela, and Spencer and his mom. They helped finish cleaning up then Spencer and his mom left.

"The worst part of all this," Mom said, looking around the house. "Besides the fact that your dad isn't going to walk through that door any minute, is knowing that we're going to have so much food for like, a week. Is it rude to freeze some of it or am I supposed to serve it all?"

"I think people made it for you to make for us when we're done having people here," I said.

"You're taking some of this back to LA with you," Mom said.

"Mom, I live in a dorm. I have a tiny bar fridge and no stove."

"You have a microwave in your common room and I'm not sending it all with you."

I didn't want to argue with her. Not today.