Daniel's Room

We are currently babysitting an 80 lb. dog named Napolean. He is Heather’s dog and she is needing to adopt him out as they can no longer handle him. He’s half American Staffordshire Terrier (read Pit Bull), one quarter Catahoula, and one quarter McNabb.  We are “trying” to find him a good home. He is 18 months old and is the sweetest little boy. When I say “trying”, I mean that Linda has designs on keeping him as she has loved him since he was born here at our home in April 2012. In fact, his mother, Leela, had him on a blanket behind my chair in the living room. When he came here last week, Linda put a blanket behind my chair so he can sleep on it. It occurs to me that Linda is trying to warm me up to the idea of adopting him.  However, this is not the point of this post. A few minutes ago, Linda asked me if she should give Napolean one of the tennis balls we have here for when Luca and Logan go down to the local high school to learn how to play tennis with Linda. I said, “Sure, where are they? In Daniel’s room?” 

It hit me at that moment that this is how we have continued to refer to that particular bedroom since Daniel moved out of it, a month before he died. I suppose this is what we will always call it. His bed is there and the nightstand by the bed which has water circles on top of it because he didn’t use a coaster, is there.  Many baseball caps with military and other logos hang on a rack behind door. There is a huge plastic jar of foam ear protectors for shooting sitting on the closet shelf.  The walls are neatly lined with framed certificates he earned in the Navy for expert marksmanship and his post military achievements such as his NRA Gun Instructor credentials. I find it ironic that so many of these “awards” have to do with shooting and guns and that is the means by which he left this world, at his own hand. But, that was Daniel. He had a passion for firearms, how they worked, how they were made and the importance of accuracy in the use of them. He had this passion from an early age when I first introduced them to him when he was seven or eight years old. He was proficient in their use. Shortly before he died, he built a custom AR-15 using parts he bought on the internet. He told me he was working on it out in the garage and when I asked him if could see the work in progress, he denied me. He wanted to wait until it was completed before he showed it to me. It took a couple of months and every few days, a package from Amazon or from some gun shop in the midwest arrived at the house. He bought a vise and special tools to assemble it. The gun is legal and is registered. One day, Daniel came into the room I was in and proudly announced. “Dad, it’s done.” He showed it to me and I was deeply impressed with it. My son-in-law, Sam, who carried a similar weapon as a combat medic in Iraq and Afghanistan, recently told me it it one of the finest works of weapon craftsmanship he has ever seen. 

But, I digress, I was speaking about “Daniel’s Room.” I will never call it “the guest room” because, in my mind, that wouldn’t be right. Linda is in charge of decorating the house. I hope she will never change Daniel’s Room and don’t think she will. I do not know what she feels about the room, but my feelings are obviously strong regarding it. Sometimes I sit on his bed, look around and think about my beloved son who I miss more than I’ve ever missed anyone. His absence is sometimes overwhelming and I cry like a baby in my pain of losing him. I know that he is in a better place, but my life here is not better without him. For now, I’ll have to find solace sitting there in Daniel’s Room reliving the sweet and the bitter memories I have of my Rooster.