My father died today

My father died today. Three years ago.
It was the start of a very strange experience.

I received a call from my mother. It was late at night and I was in the bathroom. My husband came in saying my mother was on the phone. I knew instantly that something was wrong. My mother doesn't phone at ungodly hours. All the while I washed my hands, I kept repeating silently to myself, 'Just stay calm, just stay calm, just stay calm...'

My mother's voice told me too, something was wrong. No, not hysterical or high pitched. Calm and gentle. She mostly speaks calm and gently, but this was a 'I have to deliver bad news' kind of gentle. One of my brothers and my father had been in an accident. My brother was okay, but my father didn't make it.

My parents divorced when I was 8 and I went from being his golden girl to being nothing of importance, really. I didn't do anything particularly nasty to drop in rank, but my father was easily displeased by simple things like my long hair being cut, me not hearing the first time he spoke & my innocent shop-lifting from a stationary shop at the age of 9. I didn't know I was stealing - it was gift vouchers that I mistook for pamphlets. Okay, and a sheet of stickers. But I took a whole two handfuls of gift vouchers, having no idea of their worth. My father was furious. He was a locksmith and did work for this stationary shop. What would they think of him?

And so was the relationship. Me disappointing him as far as I went - mostly unknowingly, and him not paying attention unless I was very badly behaved - he blamed my mother - or when I was very well behaved - he took the credit.

He was not an easy man. But he was my father. An absent father, but my father no less.
And now he was dead.