Good Night and Good Luck

By Allison Kendall

She was only 27 years old when her father died suddenly of a heart attack.

In Good Night and Good Luck: A Memoir Allison Kendall finds herself looking at her life and seeing a divide — the time before her father’s death and the time after. It was the vast emptiness of the time after that scared her. Holidays would no longer be the same, her wedding would no longer feature their first dance together, and every major life event she had yet to experience would be void of his support. Allison brings you in on her journey through the first year after her father’s death and all of the ups and downs that went with it.

Within these pages you will discover that...

• we all grieve differently, but there are similarities within us all.
• none of us are alone in this experience.
• feeling of connection to a complete stranger and walking with her on her journey with grief.

Join her, and bear witness while she grieves publicly for the first time. You are not alone, none of us are.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Yoke & Abundance Press
• Release date: Sep 5, 2022
• ISBN: 9798885046473

Book preview

Introduction

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The mourning veil originated as a way for the mourner to literally hide their grief. It also made a statement to everyone around them letting all know that they were in fact still grieving. Similarly, we lower the American flag flying at half-staff to show when the nation is in mourning. These mourning traditions have a long history in American culture, but the further we get from their origins, the less significance we place on them. Mourning has become something of a personal journey rather than something to honor, celebrate, or experience.

We have all been told about the five stages of grief: denial, anger, bargaining, depression, and acceptance. It is my understanding that the original use of these stages was not for those suffering the death of a loved one; I believe they are better intended for those facing their own death. Over the years, people have applied the stages to many big life events, including divorce, loss of job, and the death of a loved one. I felt that I needed to go through them one by one and then move on from my grief.

Those who have experienced death know it isn’t that simple; grief is a lifelong journey. We continue living and experiencing grief and death, and each death brings up all the former grief as well as a new way of grieving. The way we grieve that first death is not the same as the last, and it is not the same as the way the person standing next to us grieves. These stages are meant as a framework and a way for individuals to help identify what they are feeling. They were never intended to be step by step:;Oh, poor Anne. She isn’t moving on to acceptance yet, see how she is stuck in the denial stage.

I feel this is what kept me from being able to show my grief publicly. At times, I felt like I was under a microscope, that I should act a certain way or do a certain thing. In reality, it was my grief I was experiencing, not anyone else’s. Everyone handles grief differently and should be allowed to experience it however they need to.

I will never forget the people who showed up for me in those first days and even weeks after my dad died, but then they stopped reaching out, they stopped checking in on me. I no longer came up in their thoughts because life moved on. My allotted time had passed. It was like he never existed to begin with. I felt alone and forgotten. It hurt deeply as if his life didn’t matter beyond my own feelings. In any movie where there is a death, the community shows up in droves with casserole dish after casserole dish. Those casserole dishes don’t show up on your doorstep two years later. People continue living their lives, and they don’t always remember your dad’s birthday or the anniversary of his death. Our society treats grief as temporary, a phase that you pass through. Look at the workforce: the average bereavement policy allows for anywhere from three to seven days of leave. That is all you get, no more than seven days. I hope you get through that fifth stage by day seven.

I felt like I had to appear that everything was okay when inside I was in mourning, dealing with an internal battle of how to express or hide my feelings. I needed to learn there was nothing wrong with grief. I did not need to get over or hide or push down my grief. Instead, I needed to celebrate it more, to celebrate my dad more.

Día de los Muertos, or Day of the Dead, is the perfect example of a culture that celebrates the dead. This holiday is not about being cloaked in black, quite the opposite, it is all about color and life. This is a time of celebration and honoring loved ones who are no longer with us. It is a time of parties and festivals and parades all across Mexico. Celebrating or honoring the death of a loved one doesn’t have to be a somber event, and it doesn’t have to be done alone either. You can celebrate loved ones in whatever way you want, go to a concert, dance in the street, light candles, and cook a feast. Do whatever it is that feels right to you and feel free to shed the tears as you celebrate. This is something I wish I knew how to do.

Good Night and Good Luck;is about my journey through what felt like the hardest year of my life. My father died in July 2016 and in November of that year, just one month after my wedding, my husband and I found out we were pregnant. In my mind, I thought,;Okay, I don’t have time to be sad. I must be strong for this baby. I must pick myself up every day and take a step forward.;I couldn’t think about my dad; if I thought about him too much, it would make me sad. Being sad wasn’t an option. I needed to be happy. I was about to have my first baby, and I was expected to be happy. All my feelings and focus needed to be about my baby and my family. Or at least that is what I thought.

I wrote this book because I wish someone could have told me that it is okay to grieve. It is okay to grieve and be sad and happy all at the same time. It was okay for me to continue living my life and to feel sad at times. I could do both. It’s for men and women of all ages who have experienced the death of a parent, a loved one, or a friend. It is for the spouse, the friend, the partner, the child to someone who has lost someone. It is for anyone who has experienced grief in any of its forms. It’s for those who are looking for truth, understanding, or validation in their experiences and feelings, for those who need to know they are not alone, though their journey is their own.

This is the story of my grief.

Chapter 1:

Third Time’s The Charm

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Hi, leave a message and I’ll get back to you.

Then came the universal beep that signaled my dad’s answering machine was ready for my message. So naturally, I left him a voice mail. It was simple: Hey Dad, sorry I haven’t called you. Just been busy getting settled back in at home. I’m on my way to work now but will be around this evening. Give me a call when you have a chance. Love you and miss you. Talk to you later. Bye.

Looking back, it was weird, and not just that he didn’t answer, but that he also didn’t call me back.

He always called me back.

That was the morning of July 15. Later that evening, my fiancé, Ryan, and I sat on the couch watching TV when my phone rang. Ryan took this opportunity to pause whatever it was we were watching so I could answer my phone and he could go out onto the front porch and smoke a cigarette. It was my uncle Ken; we didn’t talk often but it wasn’t abnormal for him to call me out of the blue. This, however, wasn’t out of the blue. His name illuminated my screen and all I could think of was the phone call Dad had never returned.

The feeling was immediate. My stomach flipped. I felt it turn over and rise to my chest and then settle in my throat. I backed away; I didn’t want to answer that phone call. I couldn’t answer it. So, I sat there and let it ring, feeling uncomfortable with myself. Why was I so scared to answer the phone?

The screen went black and then chimed, letting me know I had a voice mail. Ryan had left the front door open and the next thing I heard was him answering his phone Hey old man! and then he rose from the chair and walked down the two steps into the front yard. I was already at the screen door when I heard him say, What do you mean? and again, What do you mean?

I walked out the door and started asking him, What is it? What happened to him? I knew. I knew something was wrong. I stood there and I watched as he heard the news I knew I didn’t want to hear. Yeah, she’s right here with me. He met me on the front steps and as he walked toward me, he hung up the phone.

That was Ken, Ryan said. It’s your dad.

My response was simple, What happened to him?

He had a heart attack. Your dad’s dead.

I fell into him, and he just tried to hold me in his arms. I pushed off him and started hitting his chest. I was physically trying to hit the news away from me. The heel of my hand pounded right into the center of his chest again and again. I was angry. I was feeling such anger for not answering my phone. This couldn’t be true. There was part of me that thought maybe if I had answered the phone call then the news would have been different, that maybe I could have changed the outcome. And then there was the other part of me that was mad Ryan was the one who told me. I wanted to be able to direct my anger at someone, and I couldn’t be mad at Ryan. I pushed away and went straight to my phone.

What are you doing? Ryan asked.

I have to call Ken, I said.

My uncle Ken answered after the first ring, and I heard the tears in his voice.

Hey, Honey, was all he said.

You’re lying! I yelled at him. Tell me it’s not true.

I’m sorry, he replied.

No, you’re wrong. He had to be wrong. I was in front of our fireplace on my knees just crying and yelling at my uncle. He told me he loved me and he was here for me whatever I needed, and we hung up the phone. I stayed there on my knees, sobbing. Ryan stood there next to me not sure what to do or how to help. He tried to rub my back, and I pushed him away. I didn’t want to be comforted, I didn’t want to be hugged, or loved, or be made to feel that anyone understood. There was no understanding to be had here. The anger was pouring out of me. I felt like a hot kettle that needed to scream but wasn’t able to. Nothing I was doing was giving me the release I needed. None of it would take away the reality I was being forced to deal with.

At some point, while I was on the floor, Ryan decided to call my mom. She was on her way to Pennsylvania, headed to a car show. She had just checked into her hotel and was walking to her room when Ryan told her that her ex-husband had died. I was hearing bits and pieces of the conversation. I heard her yell Fuck! through the phone. Ryan could hear her tell Victor, the man she was with, that they had to leave.

Alice, I don’t know what to do, Ryan said. I have never seen her like this. She is not okay. She is not calming down. There was fear and worry in his voice, and that was all I needed to hear. I started to reign in the sobs and slowed down my breathing. I tried to gain control over my emotions, and I slowly began to stand.

I’m okay, I told him. Can I talk to her?

Ryan handed me the phone. I could hear the tears in her voice, and then we were crying together. I didn’t know what to say, I couldn’t find the words to speak. But Mom understood that.

She jumped in and through her own tears she said, We are on our way. I’ll be there as soon as I can.

She didn’t ask if I was okay; she knew I wasn’t. I just needed to hear her voice. She told me to call her for anything, that she was there, and she would be with me soon. She asked to talk to Ryan again and I handed him the phone after telling her I loved her.

It wasn’t long after I got off the