Today is a grey day. The sky is grey and so is my mood. Kind of somber. It has been a month and a day since my father died. I remember seeing him after the nurse had gotten his presentable for us to visit with him after all the attempts to save him in the emergency room. We first saw him before the coroner did and he still had a tube down his throat. They prepared us for that. He looked so peaceful but I wanted that tube out. After about 15 minutes the nurse came back and said the coroner was in and that we needed to step out for a few minutes so that the tube could be removed. We left and went back to the waiting room.
About 15 minutes later we were able to see him again. The tube was removed but his mouth was still slightly open. Dad was still warm. He was warm when we first went in and he was still warm when we went back. There was a difference in temperature. That is the kind of thing I would notice. Those fine details. I touched his hair and it was like silk. So soft and white and smooth. I will always remember the feel of his hair that day.
I kept rubbing his head and hair as I cried quietly next to him.
Later at the viewing of his body at the funeral home, the dressers of the body had put a little color into his hair so that it was not as white. It was not unnatural. It was just a little less grey. It looked good. I touched his hair at the viewing and it was still just as soft. I had to make sure. It is a grey day today. Grey will always be a color associated with softness and silk and smoothness. Grey will always remind me of the feel of my fathers’ hair. Today is a grey day.
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