Wednesday, June 10, 2015

One year later

Exactly one year ago, I got an expected (but nonetheless devastating) series of phone calls, each one giving me progressively worse news until I was told that my father finally passed away peacefully, with my mother by his side.


Many things came to light in the wake of my father's death; secrets and lies that changed everyone's perception and left us all with questions that will never be answered. I always knew that he was dodgy at times, but the mess he left behind left me with a degree of resentment that will probably never go away. If I could talk to him I would say something like, "WHAT THE FUCK?!" before tearing into him.

(I'd also ask for his plantain recipe.)

Nevertheless, the fact remains that my dad is gone, and has been for a full 365 days: I didn't have to call him for Father's Day, or his birthday, and I didn't hear from him on mine. I can't bring myself to delete his number from my phone, and I have three voicemails that are incredibly trippy to listen to, as they go from healthy to a little under the weather to terminal in the span of a couple of minutes depending on the order in which they're listened to.

And, yet, adjusting to the new family dynamic hasn't been terribly difficult for me. I knew what was going to happen and I prepared for it early on. I'm actually really, really used to my dad's absence, even if I am being slightly weird and introspective today.

On the flip side, I wasn't really prepared for the slew of unknowns that came out after the fact. But there's nothing I can do except wonder about those goddamn plantains.


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