Page 40 of Noticing Natalie
“No. I’m sorry. I would’ve liked to stay, but…”
“I heard. I’m so sorry about your dad.”
I nodded, fighting back tears. It was funny. I’d felt so distant from him all the years I lived under the same roof with him. It took me moving hours and hours away for us to develop a connection.
And now he was dying.
***
The next week was insane. I accepted the job in Halliwell, glad that it was so close to Indigo Falls. I’d be able to see Dad a lot and still get adjusted to my new job.
I packed up all my things, said goodbye to all my friends, rented a small U-Haul and headed out of Baltimore. Anne and Gilbert were chilling out in their travel tank. These tortoises had been everywhere with me, and they’d given me a sense of home no matter how out of my element I’d felt at different times in my life.
After the job offers I’d received from prestigious hospitals up and down the East Coast, I never expected to be going back to my hometown.
But that’s what happened. Life has a funny way of putting circumstances in your way that you can’t really turn away from.
I moved back into my dad’s house. I stayed in my old room. I wondered if Anne and Gilbert felt like they were back home. I… didn’t. I felt kind of lost. I walked around the empty house, shocked at the changes.
Dad had packed everything up. He’d gotten rid of almost everything but kept several boxes worth of things he must’ve thought I’d want. Most of it was my mother’s. Very little of his belongings were left.
He’d left a folder on the island in the kitchen. There were important documents inside, like the deed to the house, the deed to his car, his life insurance policy, his bank account information, his retirement investment portfolio, and a living will. I closed it, disappointed that he hadn’t written a note or anything, but then realized there was a sealed envelope under the folder.
Natalie,
I’m sorry for not telling you I was sick. I kept thinking I’d beat it, but it kept coming back. Then it spread to my lymph nodes, and that was pretty much it. I knew my time was short. I owe you so much more than what you got from me. I know it’s not a good excuse, but when we buried your mother part of me went with her.
I was just never the same again. With her support, I was a good father. Without her, I floundered. Terribly. You deserved better, Nat, and I’m so very sorry for that. It’s the biggest regret of my life. But something inside me just broke when she died.
I’m sorry I wasn’t stronger for you.
I want you to know that I’ve always been proud of you. You flourished, even without a strong support at home. I’m thankful for the Summers family for treating you like one of their own. Lean on them in the coming months. You’ll need someone.
As you can see, I’ve left you everything, of course. I sent many things to Goodwill but kept anything I thought you might want. It’s packed in a way that will make it easy for you to keep or donate. Whatever you decide is fine. Look through the portfolio. The house is yours. It’s been paid off for a while now. My car is newer than yours and is also paid for. It’s nicer too, to be honest. You’ll notice I bought the one I wanted to get you for your graduation before you left for Baltimore. I guess it was my underhanded way of still getting it for you. If you don’t want it, though, sell it. If you want to move, sell the house. They’re just things. You need to make your own home, so do that wherever you want, Nat.
You’ll also see that you’re pretty much taken care of financially. I hoarded like Ebenezer Scrooge since your mom died. I should’ve spent more on you all those years. But, well, you have it now. The life insurance will help, too. You’ll have the freedom to travel for a while before picking where you want to settle down.
Natalie, I know something happened between you and Tim Summers. I don’t know what it was, but I know it must’ve been bad for you to turn away from him so completely. Just know this—life is too short for grudges. If you still love him, as a friend or more, try your best to get over whatever happened and remember all the good times the two of you had together. I always liked him. Of course, if he’s turned out to be a complete bastard, disregard everything I just said. I just want you to be happy.
I’m so thankful for the past year. The conversations, the texts, the one magical visit I was able to make, all meant so much to me. I feel like we got each other back even if it was for a short time. Sometimes the most precious things are.
I love you, Natalie. I always will. I’ll be looking down on you from above.
Love, Dad
I was crying by the end, and the tears kept coming for quite some time afterwards. I cried for missed time, for the part of him that broke, and for the time we got to be together. I hoped I had a couple of months with him, at least.
***
I didn’t. I’d had a couple of weeks. That was it. And he was only lucid for a couple of days of that. But those days had been great. He’d known I was there, and we talked. We said everything we needed to say to each other and then spent some time laughing and going over old memories with Mom. It was wonderful, considering he hadn’t really talked about her since the accident.
The rest of the time, I held his hand and talked to him. I didn’t leave his side except to run home and take a shower and change clothes. Lynne and Pete dropped by off and on to bring food and comfort.
I was with him when he died, peacefully. He’d had to be on a good bit of pain medication by then, so he wasn’t in pain at the end.
I couldn’t help but think, as I sat by Aunt Sabine on the front pew of the church he hadn’t attended once since Mom died, that I’d heard both my parents take their last breaths. I didn’t know if that was a curse or a blessing.
I spoke at the funeral. I barely even knew what I was saying as I stood there. But the preacher didn’t even know him, and I couldn’t stand for no one who knew him to talk about him at his funeral. So, I shared good memories and ended with the trip he took to see me in Baltimore. It felt wonderful to be able to relay such good times with the people who came to the church. There weren’t many. He hadn’t been exactly social after Mom died. Many of the people were there for me, and they knew how things had been.
