Dad seemed lost without her. He wandered through the house like a ghost, touching things she’d touched, sitting in her favorite chair, staring at nothing. Robert and I took turns checking on him, worried he’d fall apart completely. We made sure he ate. We fielded phone calls from concerned relatives. We sorted through sympathy cards and thank-you notes and all the administrative nightmares that come with death.
I told myself we were healing. Moving forward. Learning to live with the loss.
I had no idea what was actually happening.
The Announcement That Changed Everything
Three months after the funeral—three months to the day—my father called Robert and me and asked us to come over to the house.
“I need to talk to you both,” he said on the phone. His voice sounded strange. Too careful. Too rehearsed. “It’s important.”
“Is everything okay?” I asked, immediately worried. “Are you feeling alright?”
“I’m fine. I just… I need to tell you something in person. Both of you. Together.”
