Written by: Sammi (sammi_friendsrocks@yahoo.com.au)
Disclaimer: These characters do not belong to me, but to Bright, Kaufman and Crane Productions and Warner Bros. Their use is not intended for profit, only for entertainment.
“Tamara! Let’s go
and visit your dad.”
I came running down the stairs when I heard my mom say this. I hadn’t seen my dad in a month. Not that I could really see him alone
anyway…mom was always there.
“There you are. Now come on, we’ve got
to go.” She turned around and walked
out the door.
There he was. Well,
not the real him but the closest I could get.
Chandler Jordan Bing. Aged
34. Loving husband of Monica and
dedicated father of Tamara. Loved
always and forever. As I looked at
the headstone I got tears in my eyes.
This was the closest I could ever get to my dad. And I barely even remembered him.
I looked over at my mom. She was
shedding silent tears, mourning for her loss.
I know that she will always mourn for him, and while she puts on a brave
smile for the outside world, inside our world, she will never be the same,
never fully happy, never satisfied. My
heart goes out to her, I wish I could somehow make her happy. But the only one who can do that is gone…forever.
Mom knelt next to me and hugged me. As
I hugged her back I tried to make all her pain go away, but I know it will
never happen.
“Oh Tami. I miss him so much.” She sobbed into my shoulder.
“I know mom. I miss him too.” I tried my best to comfort her, knowing that
it would do no good. The same thing
happened every time we visited dad’s grave.
She would cry and I would hold her.
We both wanted to get rid of the other’s pain and at the same time we
both knew that the only one who could erase our pain was the one who
couldn’t…Chandler, my dad and Monica’s husband.
Once we had both stopped clinging to each other, I laid the bouquet of flowers
down on the headstone, then got up and walked away, leaving my mom to have some
time alone with him.
I came back 10 minutes later and saw my mom kiss the photo
of dad that was lying on his gravestone.
She turned to me and silently walked away.
“Hey dad” I spoke towards the headstone, “Here I am again huh? Mom’s really missing you. I don’t know whether or not you can see her,
but if you can’t, I’ll tell you that she’s getting better. Slowly, but eventually I think she’ll be
alright. But she’ll never marry again,
and she probably won’t even go on a date.
She loved you so much. She still
loves you, I can tell. But she won’t
talk about you anymore. I finally got
to meet my Uncle Ross a month ago. In
fact it was right after the last time I came to see you. Mom took me to this place called Central
Perk and we met her brother and the others.
I think you know who they are. I
know I’ve probably already met them, before you died but I couldn’t remember
them. Oh, mom’s coming, it must be time for us to go. I’ll see you later. By
dad. I love you” With that I kissed my fingertips and pressed
them to the cheek of the photograph.
Then mom came and slipped her arm around my shoulders.
We had three wonderful years together, the three of us. Then the day after mom & dad’s third
wedding anniversary, he was killed. I
don’t really remember what happened, even though I was there, because I was
only 3 ½. But my mom has told me
everything. When I was 12, she told me
a lot of stuff about my dad. And then,
after she’d gotten it off her chest, there was no more talking about it. I haven’t talked with my mom about my dad
for 5 years, other than our trips to the cemetery.
The day after my dad’s funeral, my mom took all her money out of the bank and
packed up our essential possessions.
Then she took me, and flew to San Francisco.
The shots that had killed my dad, mom’s husband, had just as surely shot to
pieces mom’s sense that there were bigger things other than herself and her
immediate family worth fighting for.
She made a new life for us, in a different city. Chandler had died. And she made sure his daughter survived.
I don’t really remember any of that.
All I know is that my mother and I are as close as can be. We are like the two hands of the clock. One is the hour, the other the minute. Off in different directions most of the
time, but joined at the centre, where it mattered.
It was five years before mom felt she was ready to come back to New York. Then she did the same thing, took all her
money out of the bank, packed up our possessions and flew to New York. This time I was able to remember, and pack
for myself.
Hardly anyone trespasses into our lives.
Only now has mom met again with her old friends. She is
slowly starting to get her life back.
Mom has her restaurant to run and her daughter to bring up, and of
course her memories to contend with. As
the years passed it was as thought mom’s memories had merged to become mine as
well. I feel sure I can remember my
dad, making quips and jokes at anyone who happened to strike him worthy.
When I got home, I immediately knew it was time for another
look at the family photo albums. For as
long as I can remember, every time we visited my dad’s grave, when we came
home, I would get the family photo albums and spend hours in my room looking at
them.
The first couple of photos I came across were of my parents’ wedding. My mom looked beautiful, I’ve never seen her
look so pretty. And I can tell that my
dad loved the way she looked, just by the look in his eyes. They were always full of love for her. Phoebe & Rachel, mom’s old best friends
were bridesmaids, dressed in a dark green satin. Mom’s brother Ross and dad’s best friend Joey were the best
men. There are some photos of me, about
six months old, in a white dress, sitting on my grandma’s knee while she
watched the ceremony. Mom had fallen
pregnant with me just after dad proposed.
In fact, she told him about it after he proposed. Then they decided to wait until after I was
born and mom had slimmed down to have the wedding..
As I look at the photos, I remember some of the things that mom has told
me. Her and dad had been going out for
two years before he proposed. They had
been living together for a year, in mom’s apartment. The night dad was going to propose, mom’s old boyfriend Richard
turned up and mom, not knowing anything about the proposal, invited him and his
date to sit at the next table. So the
moment was ruined. And then, thinking
mom suspected something, he tried to make her think he was against
marriage. Big mistake. Coz then Richard turned up at mom’s work at
told mom that he loved her and was ready to give her all the things she
wanted. So, what a position mom was
in. There she was, on one hand was the
boyfriend she loved with all her heart…but he was against marriage. And on the other hand was the ex-boyfriend
she had taken three months to get over…and he was ready to marry and have kids
with her. Eventually she chose dad and
tried to propose to him, but she kept crying.
So in the end, dad proposed and mom said yes. Then she told him she was pregnant with me.
Then, after the wedding photos, almost all of them are of me. At different ages, dressed in different
clothes, being held by different people.
One of my favourite baby pictures is one where mom, dad and Rachel are
sitting on the couch in Central Perk.
Phoebe, Joey & Uncle Ross are standing behind, leaning over to look
at me. I’m sitting on dad’s lap, about
a year old, dressed in black overalls and a pink t-shirt. Looking at that photo brought back many
memories.
When I was born in was an enormously happy time for mom & dad’s group of
six. I was the first child that was a
‘keeper’ as dad used to say. Uncle Ross
had Ben, but he hardly ever saw him, and Phoebe had the triplets, but they
weren’t her own kids. And so my birth
was a time of great rejoicing, especially for my mom. She had always wanted a baby of her own. I’ve been told that once she even went to a
sperm bank because she wanted a child so badly. But she couldn’t go through with it and so when she found out she
was pregnant with me, she was ecstatic.
Even better was the fact that the father was the love of her life. She could never love someone as much as she
loved dad. Sorry loves dad. She still loves him, and as it says on his
grave, she’ll love him always and forever.
My all-time favourite photo is of mom, dad and me, aged 3. It was taken in Boston, when we went there
for a holiday. We stopped a passing
pedestrian and asked him to take our photo.
It’s snowing, and we’re all rugged up against the cold. I’m on dad’s shoulders, and he has one arm
around my leg and the other around mom’s shoulders. In my opinion we look like the perfect family. But that wasn’t to happen. At that time, mom was pregnant again, about
2 months along. She had a miscarriage. It broke her heart, and she spent a month
away from dad & I, trying to come to terms with her loss. And then, four months later, dad was killed.
The time dad broke his leg on the swing is another event that I can ‘remember’,
even though, logically, I couldn’t have even been born. But it is so real to me, I secretly think my
mom’s wrong, that I must have been there. How can someone else’s simple words conjure up such vivid colours
and noise? In bed at night I can slot
myself back there at will, feel myself on Rachel’s lap, being carried back and
forth by the swing. And then all of a
sudden, there is this weird metallic noise.
And dad goes flying through the air, landing on his butt on the
grass. There’s a loud crack. His left leg twisted out in an unnatural
angle. Mom, Ross & Phoebe running
over to him, Rachel quickly stopping the swing and rushing over. I can hear his groans of pain, everyone’s
shouts and whispers…
I can conjure up the smell of my father too.
The smell when he’s just hopped out of the shower, or when he’s coming
home from a long day at work. I can
recall the way he had laughed and sung.
Mom had often spoken about that laugh.
She said it had always cheered her up when she was down, no matter what
happened, she could count on dad to make her happy again. But I know that I would remember it even if
my mom hadn’t told me. I truly believe
I can remember him.
One of my most vivid ‘memories’ is of
the night dad died. That night we had
been walking home from the cinema’s where we had just seen the new Disney
movie. A group of thugs appeared in
front of us and dad immediately put himself between them and us. They took all our money and valuables, even
mom’s engagement ring. When dad
protested one of them pulled out a gun and shot him twice in the stomach. As he fell to the ground they ran off. My mom cradled his head in her hands as she
sat on the street, crying. I just stood
behind her, not knowing what was happening to my dad.
With his last few breaths, dad said the words that will be etched into my mind
for all time. “I love you. Take care of our baby. I’ll wait for you…”