My name’s Nicole and my mum passed away around seven months ago. It’s been difficult, obviously, for more reasons than one. I loved my mum. Maybe we weren’t as close as I know some of my friends are with their parents but we did love each other. I have a lot of great memories with her, moreso when I was younger, but they’re memories I know I’m going to cherish for the rest of my life.
I guess that’s beside the point. If you’ve read the title, you’ll know this isn’t about her. Not fully, anyway. My mum passed when I was 20 (I turned 21 in June - not to much fanfare but, all things considered, I wasn’t expecting anything) and as a result, I dropped out of uni. That wasn’t the plan originally - it was meant to be a short break, to grieve and to be with my dad. I figured he’d need me as much as I needed him in that moment. A couple of months passed, though, and the idea of going back is still a little weird to me. The thought of everyone walking on eggshells around me, asking me if I’m okay, going to that lecture hall where I first got the news… no thanks. So, only last month, I made the decision not to go back. Not for the foreseeable, anyway.
Again, beside the point. Sorry, I don’t know how much context is really necessary here and, if I’m being honest, I haven’t had much of an outlet to talk about any of this. When she passed, I came straight back home and my dad was feeling pretty much exactly as I expected. We hugged, we cried, we had a few drinks and we shared stories - our personal stories with her and our shared ones. It was really nice, it felt almost therapeutic. But the next day, dad was different. He was jolly and peppy and joking around. I assumed maybe he was trying to cheer me up, keep everything light to avoid us pulling each other further into a miserable hole. Every time I tried speaking to him about mum, he would say something to the effect of “oh, honey, I know” and hug me or give me a kiss on the cheek before changing the subject or walking away.
This lasted for about five months. Even at the funeral he was the life of the party, for want of a more appropriate expression. He seemed completely unfazed but I knew that wasn’t true because he’d shown me otherwise that night. One thing I noticed, which I guess I didn’t think too much of at the time, was that he kept referring to her in the present tense when he spoke before she was buried. He did a speech talking about everything he loved about her but it wasn’t everything he loved. It was everything he loves.
“Mandy is the most loving soul. She always puts others first before herself, the most generous, kind and loving woman I have ever had the pleasure of knowing.”
That sort of thing. I noticed it at the time but I didn’t pay it much mind, until recently. I’ve been thinking about those first few months a lot since he changed. That is, again. I’ll get to that shortly, though.
At the wake, it was the same story. He was going around talking to everybody, cracking jokes. I wasn’t the only one who saw it, either. One of his friends came up to me at one point and told me it was going to be okay. He said that this was dad’s way of dealing with his grief and, at some point, he’ll be back to his old self. It made sense to me and I believed him.
I’m not so sure I do anymore.
About a month ago, I came home from seeing a friend and dad was sat in the living room watching TV. I asked him what he was watching but he didn’t reply. When I asked again, still nothing. I walked around to the front of him and his eyes were sort of glazed over, not blinking. They were filled with tears but I couldn’t tell if it was from sadness or because he hadn’t closed them. I started to freak out and shake him. After a little while he blinked and the tears that had collected tumbled down his cheeks. He took in a deep breath and turned to me, letting it out with a weak laugh.
“Hi, honey. How’s university going?”
I looked at him for a little while. I didn’t know what to reply and the question, for some reason, twisted a tiny knot in my stomach. Eventually, I reminded him that I don’t go to uni anymore and that he knew that.
“Of course. Sorry, honey. I think I was dreaming.”
From that day onwards, he’s been weird. Really weird. I keep catching him staring into nothingness and some nights I hear him talking to himself in his bedroom. My heart pounds every time I hear his voice in there on his own. I can’t explain why but I sit in my room, terrified of hearing him muttering to himself again. Sometimes it makes me jump when he starts. It’s not like he’s loud, it’s just… something isn’t right.
In fact, it was around three weeks ago when I first heard it. I was passing by his bedroom door.
“We’re coming. We’re going to come soon, I promise, we’ve just got to get some things in order and we’ll be there.”
I froze there and then. Before I could even start formulating any thoughts, his door opened and he saw me standing there.
“Honey. What are you doing?”
His voice was monotone as he said it - it always is now. Since that night in front of the TV, he just doesn’t emote at all: how he talks, his expressions, all blank. I didn’t know what to say back so I told the truth. I told him what I heard and that I was worried.
“I was on the phone to your auntie. She wants to talk to us about her sister. She said we can drive up to them in a few weeks and stay for a weekend.”
At the time, I felt relieved. Of course, I thought, why the hell am I acting crazy? But then, when the talking became a regular thing, I started to doubt he was telling me the truth.
Some of the other things I’ve heard him say alone at night:
“She’s still not ready, give her more time.”
“I believe you, I believe you, I believe you…” - This went on for ten minutes. I timed it after a minute or two. He just wouldn’t stop saying it, over and over again, and after the fifth minute I could swear he was crying.
“Shhhh, stop shouting, you’ll ruin the surprise.”
There have been other things, but these are the ones that scared me the most. Otherwise, there’s a lot of inane conversation and I can’t always hear it all. Sometimes I can just make out that he’s whispering but I have no idea what he’s saying.
About four days ago, he made us both dinner. We sat at the table and he didn’t touch it at all, he just sat there, staring. When I wasn’t looking, it was at me. Every time I looked up from my plate and towards him, I’d see his eyes slowly shift to face directly in front of him. It was like he simultaneously didn’t want to get caught but also didn’t really care if he did.
I tried to speak to him a couple of times during dinner but I couldn’t break his distant look. He wouldn’t respond to me. I’ll admit, I got pretty worked up, I started crying after a little while and tried shaking him again but it didn’t do anything.
I ate all that I could with a knotted mess sitting in my stomach and took the plate up to the sink. As I went to leave the kitchen, his head turned to me and he spoke.
“Honey. Do you want to stay in my room tonight?”
The knot wriggling in my stomach burst into life and shot straight up to my throat and I threw up all across the floor. I looked back up to him, my lip quivering as drops of vomit dripped away.
“No, no, no, no, not like this. Clean yourself up.”
We haven’t seen much of each other since that night. I’ve been getting out of the house as much as I can and, when I come home, I make sure it’s late and I make a beeline for my bedroom.
I’m not sure what to do. I thought about calling the police but I don’t want to hurt my dad. I don’t want him to be locked away, we’ve been through enough already. If, by some miracle, this is just his grieving process and he’ll be back to normal soon, then I don’t want to risk putting him in a situation he can’t come back from.
I did tell my friend, Katie. She said I need to get him help. I don’t really know where to go to for that. I thought I’d post this first and see what you guys think. I’ll keep you updated afterwards too, I’ll link any extra updates to this one, so don’t worry - I guess, unless you stop hearing from me.
I love my dad but I’m so, so scared.
He’s just started talking in his room again. I can’t make out much of what he’s saying. Computer, maybe? I don’t know. I’m exhausted. I need to sleep now.
Speak to you guys soon.