Loss and Other Unexpected Feelings

My dad is really, truly gone.

He was really, truly gone the day he passed away. It’s been over 3 years. Ask me what I did yesterday and I probably couldn’t tell you (I often joke I have the memory of a goldfish), but I remember that phone call.

That phone call took 5 years to come, so a tiny part of me felt relief; I no longer had to fear when it would happen. An unknown someday became a very concrete today. But my entire world ended, and yet, life around me went on. The world continued to spin, and people went about their daily lives like nothing changed. But everything had. 

He was survived by his girlfriend, Lynn. They had been together for decades, so I basically considered her to be my stepmom. But they never married. Both had been married before, my mom being my Dad’s second wife. He vowed he would never marry again, and that ‘it’s just a piece of paper. Why get the government involved?’

Having Lynn meant that a part of him was still alive. That’s the reason I tried to keep in touch. 

And it worked, for a while. I reached out, but it always felt very one sided. I would call, but she wouldn’t pick up (or maybe wasn’t home, as she might be the only person I knew who still had a landline). I’d text, and while she would respond, the initiation always came from me. Eventually, it lessened and lessened, until it stopped. The last text I sent was almost a year ago, on her birthday. The last text I received was one week later. 

I once asked my friend why it was so hard to keep in touch. Her response was that maybe it hurt her to talk to me. The complete opposite of how I felt. Talking to her meant my dad was still alive.

Last night, my phone lit up with an unknown number. The area code was familiar, so although I don’t usually pick up random calls, this one felt different. 

It was a detective, looking for Michael Edwards. My dad. I told her he died several years prior. His name was on the deed of the house. The house that was theirs, then became Lynn’s. 

She was gone.

My heart broke. 

I knew how hard it must have been for her, after my Dad passed. The two of them were very private. They had each other, and he had me. She had previously had children, but her son died years ago, and her daughter died about a year after my father. 

She died, alone. And with her gone, I am all that remains of him. 

There is a hurt that isn’t quite explainable. I don’t know if I have a right to feel this sad, but I do. 

Today I spoke to her grandson. The reason the detective had called me. She was trying to find the next of kin. And she did. Today, he called me. Justin and I spoke about his grandmother, about my father. Justin knew him as Nirav, which is the spiritual name my Dad adopted 30 some-odd years ago. I hadn’t thought about that name in forever; to me, he was just Dad.

It was a nice reminder. Comforting. Although they only met a few times, Justin only had kind things to say about him. I asked if it would be ok, since he was to inherit the house, if I could possibly have some of my dad’s belongings. The answer was a resounding yes.

My dad is gone. Lynn is gone. A double gut punch. But maybe, hopefully, now I can go back to the house. I can select some very specific sentimental items that I haven’t been able to yet collect. The Kiss FM mix tape. The opal ring. Truth be told, I’d choose the cassette tape if I had to pick just one.

This month was supposed to be a new start, complete with 30 day challenge. What better day to start, then on the first of the month?

I did not think this is the type of challenge I was starting, but the universe has a funny way of making things come true, even if it’s not in the way intended or expected. All I can do is choose to keep moving forward.

One day has finally become Day One. Today was not the day I expected to have, but rather, one where I felt the loss of my dad, not for the first time. Probably not for the last.