Page 125 of The Legend
When I gotout of the car at the cemetery, I couldn’t but only because of him.
In all mynineteen years, I had never seen my dad cry, ever. I never saw him cry when mymom left him. I never saw him cry when his team plane crashed and he lostmembers of his team. I never saw him cry when his Ryder was killed mere monthsafter that plane crash.
If he hadcried, I never saw. I only ever saw the strong confident father he was to me. Isaw the legend make his mark in history as the driver with the fierydisposition that could rattle even the toughest.
But there,under a group of birch trees, he sat dressed in all black on the ground withhis head against his arms that rested on his knees, crying; his body shakingwith the sobs for the entire world to see. My dad was always good at lettinghis family see one side and the rest of the world saw Jameson Riley the NASCARdriver. But right now, he was a broken man who’d lost his father.
I knew thedangers of racing, as did he, and grandpa—he knew as well. Even though we allknew, we never thought it, would take grandpa’s life someday.
Mom was amess. Grandma had yet to say a word to anyone today but offered her mistysmile. Casten said nothing; just stared at his feet as uncle Spencer preparedto give his speech.
With allthis going on around me, nothing compared to seeing my dad crying, my hero, theunbreakable man I’d looked up to my entire life, crying, shaking in brokensobs. He thought this was his fault and just like everything else, he took theweight on his shoulders.
He nevercame toward the grave. Instead, he remained in the shadows of the birch treeswhile my mom and I watched him. I knew mom wanted to comfort him as did I, butthere was no way for us too. He lost the greatest man he’d ever known and helost his hero. Whether you’re made of steel or not, that will take its toll onyou.
Nothing Icould say would ever make that better. Nothing anyone said would make adifference to him right now. All we could do was try to let him know we werehere for him. We would be his arm restraints if he needed.
It wasstupid looking back on it. None of us should have been out there, especiallynot grandpa.
When thelast words were spoken by Spencer, mom walked over to dad and collapsed besidehim, pulling him into her arms. He clutched her tightly as though his reasonfor breathing was her, frantically needing her closer to him. His head slumpedforward against her knees as she put her hands in his hair, comforting him in away only she could.
Arie leftwith Aunt Emma while Casten and I sat near the grave, watching mom and dad. Younever expect to see your parents break but when you do, I guarantee you itwon’t be what you expected. You look up to your parents for guidance on how toact when challenging times occur but what happens when they react in a wayyou’re not expecting?
“Should wego?” Casten asked softly. “It feels wrong watching him cry.”
“Yeah,” Istood motioning with my head toward the car. “Everyone is back at our house.”
The mediaand fans gathered at the funeral home we used in town but no one knew he wasn’tactually buried there. It was a front on our part just because in sprint carracing, Jimi was more popular than Elvis. We had to take security measures.
Spencer,Casten and me took off to Elma a few weeks after grandpa was cremated and hadthe ashes in hand. His wishes were to be spread across Grays Harbor Racewaywith Charlie, my other grandpa who died right after I was born.
Casten andI left my parent’s there and soon they left since the media was basicallyinvading them. When they pulled in the driveway, dad walked down the road thatled to the sprint car shop.
Mom walkedinside to greet us.
“Where’she going?” Arie asked walking out onto the front porch where we were standing.
“He saidhe wants to be alone when he sees it,” Mom said softly, tears spilled down hercheeks. She reached out to hug Casten who wrapped his arms around her. “Weshould give him some space for now.”
We lefthim alone, for a few hours and then I decided to go check on him. I understoodhow scared he was and angry and he had every right to feel that way.
He’d been outthere in the shop for hours before anyone braved walking in. We knew him wellenough to know it was best to just leave him alone at times like this. Luckilyhis shoulder would prevent him from hurling any transmissions through the wallthis time like he did when Ryder was killed.
He lookedtired, very tired. I knew how he felt. It was hard to sleep these days.
Dad hid itwell but you could tell he still felt responsible for it. He’d never let on toothers though, he just said, “It’s an accident,” but I don’t think he’dconvinced himself of that just yet.
When heheard the shop door click shut behind me, he looked up.
His facewas that of a guilty man. Once again—he took the brunt on his shoulders. For amoment, I couldn’t speak. This was my father, the unbreakable man, the legend...crying.
He quicklybrushed away the tears and cleared his throat. “Did your mom send you afterme?”
“No, Isent myself after you.”
“Youdidn’t have to.” He stood straightening out his jacket and tie he’d pulled awayfrom his neck. For a moment, he stared at me. His silence was a loaded weaponand seemed to be a mask behind his indifference. “We should get back anyway.”
I knew himwell enough to know he wasn’t going to talk about it right now. He closedhimself off.
