Page 1 of Final Goodbye
I had just finisheda twelve-hour shift at the bar and was in desperate need of a drink to wind down. A bottle of Pinot Grigio was calling my name, and my roommate was busy with her boyfriend for the night, leaving me alone to my thoughts.
The bottle was halfway gone when my phone lit up with my mother’s name. Rolling my eyes, I mumbled under my breath,?“What could she possibly need from me so late?”?
I contemplated ignoring the call, too exhausted and desperate to relax. It had been a long day, and I was dying to crawl into my bed and sleep until noon tomorrow. These bar shifts were long and hard on my body. The hours were late, and by the time I was done winding down, I wasn’t asleep until the early hours of the morning.
The alcohol must have been getting to my head because I figured,What the hell, I’ll answer it and see what she needs this time.Pretending I was sober, I took a deep breath and answered the phone.
“Hey, Mom, it’s late. What’s going on?” I heard sobs from the other end of the phone and the hair on my arms immediatelystood up. Her cries sobered me in an instant as I placed my wine glass on the nearest surface and straightened my spine.
“It’s your dad. He’s been in an accident. You need to come home,” she spoke through sobs.
I was in shock, with no clue what to say. So many thoughts ran through my head. My dad and I are so close; we just talked the other day. What did she mean he’d been in an accident?
“Mom, what do you mean? Is he hurt? What happened?” The questions spewed off my tongue in rapid fire.
He couldn’t be gone.But why did my mind instantly go to the worst place?
That was the only thought running through my head.
I had a feeling deep in my gut that she wouldn’t be reacting this way if he was only hurt and in the hospital. I shook the depressing thoughts away for a moment and hardened my exterior. I held my breath, awaiting her response.
“Paige, he’s dead.”?
That’s all she said. Those two words would haunt me.He’s dead.
She was hysterical, and I was left speechless. There was so much I wanted to say and ask, but when I opened my mouth, it was like my words were stuck in my throat.
“I’ll be on the first flight out.” That’s all I could muster up the courage to say. It almost felt like, if I didn’t have the answers, I could ignore the problem at hand until I was back home in Colorado. But in the back of my mind, I knew October eighth would be a day I’d never forget.
Immediately, I began to throw clothes in a bag, not even giving it a second thought whether they matched or not. I had no idea how long I’d be back home in Colorado; I just knew I had to get there. I needed to know what was going on. Something didn’t feel right about this.
This news seemed fake. Being away from my family and not receiving the information in real time like they were—it didn’t seem real. Not yet anyway.
The thought of my father being gone broke my fucking heart. Yet there were no tears to prove my heart was shattered into a million pieces at the moment.
I should be crying, right? Why are there no tears?
I grabbed fistfuls of my hair, pulling it in frustration as I screamed and tried to let out any sort of raw emotion.
Yesterday, my dad called me. He was checking in, and we talked about the usual stuff: how work was going, what I was up to, surface level topics.
Yesterday, I heard his voice, not knowing it would be the last time. Yesterday, I told him I loved him for the last time. Today… Today, he wasgone.
I went to my dad for everything. He was the closest person to me. He was my best fucking friend. So why wasn’t I crying? I should have been sobbing, just like my mom was. What was wrong with me? I kept telling myself I was just in shock, but I think I knew deep down, I told myself I wasn’t allowed to show emotion. I had to be strong.?
Crying made me weak, and someone had to be strong in this family.?
That desperation for sleep I was chasing… Well, that never happened. I booked the earliest flight out of Phoenix. It had only been four hours since I heard the news, giving me enough timeto pack everything I could into two large suitcases and get an Uber to the airport. Thankfully, it was early enough—or late, if you’re someone who works as a bartender—that the Uber driver wasn’t all that talkative. It took me longer than necessary to pack, mostly because I got held up on which black dress I should bring.?
Why was I held up on such a stupid thought?
It didn’t matter which dress I’d wear. My dad wouldn’t be there to see me in whatever dress I chose, anyway. He wasdead. This wasn’t a wedding; it would be his funeral.
Well, that was morbid, Paige…
It was a ridiculous thought to have, and eventually, I shook myself out of it and packed everything black that I owned and saidto hell with it.
My headphones were in and my eyes were closed for the two-hour flight, doing my best to shut out the world around me. I selected an old country playlist on my phone that my dad and I used to listen to constantly, trying to test my emotions. WhenMy Little Girlby Tim McGraw came on and I still hadn’t shed a tear, I knew I was fucked in the head.?
