Today, my dad walked into my flat completely unexpectedly.
They just burst in, having driven 10 miles through traffic and went to all the
effort to come here. I was taken completely by surprise as I was playing my
guitar, completely oblivious whilst minding my own business.
he came in with the most relieved looks on their faces I
have ever seen.
“Dan! Thank God you’re alright!”
“What the hell are you doing here? Of course I’m alright. Why wouldn't I be alright?”
“I thought you died!”
“What?! Why would I be dead?!”
“You hadn’t replied to any of my text messages for 5 days.
Your mother and I tried to contact you on Facebook, but you never answered
after trying to contact you dozens of times.”
“What? I go on Facebook all the time! If I ever received
such messages, I would’ve replied to them. But I never received anything from
any of you.”
“We did send you loads of messages to see what was wrong
because you hadn’t replied to us at all for days. Your phone was switched off
and we sent you dozens of messages with no reply. So I came here to see what
the hell was going on. When we saw your blinds were closed, we thought you had
“What the fuck?? What lead you to that conclusion? Why the
fuck would I be dead?”
"It doesn’t matter anymore. All that matters is that you’re
“Of course I’m okay, why wouldn’t I be? Nothing bad has
They then told me he was going out to eat and if I wanted to
join him. We left to go out as if nothing had ever happened.
So after the meal, dad told me that my mum had booked
tickets to go to a comedy club in a bar as she won them. So after the meal we
left for the bar.
So I walked into the bar being prepared to supposedly
‘laugh’ at the comedians and be sociable. Well, none of that happened according
to plan. I came into the bar expecting a good time and I walked out drunk and a
So I spent my time with my father for the evening. We didn’t
talk much, except for sharing pleasantries. It seemed so strange how a couple
of hours ago, he bombarded my apartment expecting me to be haemorrhaging on
the floor, dead. Then we have a conversation like we were mere
acquaintances. It was really, really strange.
Then we went downstairs to the underground club to ‘laugh’
at the drunken stand-up ‘comedians’. The show began and ran for 3 parts. I
didn’t pay attention to a word any of them said. All I could think about was how strange dad was acting.
I looked at him seeing a man full of joy from the cheap
laughter of the other drunk audience members. He looked so strong and
impossible to break.
My memory casts back to when he had the
stroke, in a house I’ve been living in for almost 20 years. Back to when he was screaming on his office
floor in terror, in absolute tears. My dad never, ever showed emotion like
that. I haven’t seen him shed a tear in all my life. Not one. Not even during
his father’s funeral. He looked like his plain, normal self. And then to see
him completely powerless, petrified, begging for me to help him, it didn’t just
break my heart; it annihilated it.
I looked back to the time when him and I went on holiday
together and only us were together when we had a speedboat. At 6am every
morning, we sailed in crystal clear waters.
We found a lagoon we that was completely secluded. The
reason we travelled 1200 miles to this paradise was to go fishing together. We
watched the sun rise together every morning as we fished alone in the lagoon.
We even went skinny dipping on one of the mornings when the water was ice cold.
But we didn’t care.
We loved to go there and we loved each other so, so much.
But then the memory faded away. And now there he was, just
him and me. He cried on the floor, absolutely terrified. Screaming, shaking,
occasionally whimpering that he loved me. He cried that he was sorry for being
a bad father. He said that in case this was the end, that he loved me with all
his heart. That he was the proudest dad in the world.
I hugged him as he lay down on the stretcher as he closed
his eyes, as he was being carried off to the ambulance.
Then I looked that the comedy was over. I walked home alone
back to this apartment, were once again my flatmates are partying for the
Now I know why my dad was so worried about me when he came
to my flat. Because he was so afraid that he didn’t want me to be in terror,
dying. Like he did. And it only began to make sense to me when I just got home
here. I hadn’t talked to him for quite a while and the last thing he wanted for
me was for him to see me die, like he almost did.
I fucking love my dad so fucking much.