Every woman my father dated seemed excited about seeing him again, only to disappear before morning. When my best friend agreed to help me discover why, one terrifying message proved it was never random.
My father lost my mother twelve years ago.
I was old enough to understand what death meant, but far too young to understand what it could do to the person left behind.
After the funeral, he became a different man.
Before Mom passed away, he brought life into every room.
He sang while making coffee.
He told awful jokes at dinner and laughed before reaching the punch line.
There was always music playing somewhere in the house.
After she was gone, silence settled over everything.
For years, he refused to date.
