Au Revoir

It had been the worst summer of the worst year of her life. Ten months earlier, Maddy's dad had been diagnosed with leukemia. She hated watching him lose weight from the chemo, his body wearing down after continual trips to the doctor. The pain and nausea could be overwhelming, but Leif made a valiant attempt to hide it from his daughter. Whenever he caught her looking at him in worry, he’d force a smile and tell her, “It’ll be alright, darling. I promise. This isn’t the end.”

Six months later, it seemed he’d been proven right. The first rounds of chemotherapy made a remarkable difference, and Leif—fighter that he was—staged a comeback. The cancer went into remission, and all signs pointed to a full recovery. His birthday that year was the best they'd ever celebrated together. Then came COVID, and that’s when everything changed.

She remembered driving up to the whitewashed hospital with Leif coughing in the seat beside her. The woman recalled how orderlies, clad in ugly gray scrubs, had prevented her from entering with him, citing new COVID regulations. The image of the dingy, sterile doors haunted her, closing behind him as if they were swallowing him whole.

That was the last time she ever saw him.

Within a day, he was on a ventilator. The lone FaceTime call they shared occurred three days in, and the teenager broke down when she realized he wouldn’t be able to talk. Shame filled her as she remembered breaking down, ugly crying on the phone. Sobs had wracked her body, and she could barely see the screen through the tears. A week later, when the hospital called to tell her that he had slipped into a coma, guilt smothered her, suffocating her like a wet blanket. He had been so strong for her, and all she’d done the last time she saw him was weep.

Maddy hadn’t let herself cry since.

It had been two months since he had died. She couldn't shake the feeling that if she had just been there, this hole in her chest wouldn't exist. She could have said goodbye, but now there was just… nothing. It was odd to think that a chasm filled her, as if emptiness somehow had substance. The contradiction characterized her life; she couldn't even identify all that comprised the swirling torrent of emotions that drained her every day, let alone separate and address them. It was a tornado of pain filled by a void so thick she could feel it.

Nothing made sense anymore.

A shout brought Maddy back sharply from her thoughts. She had entered a crosswalk without paying attention, and a bike messenger nearly clipped her. She apologized to his retreating figure, checked the rest of the crosswalk carefully, then continued.

A half-hour later, the woman stepped onto the porch of the house she'd shared with her dad. They bought it when she started college several years before. Her mother had left when she was a child, and it had always been the two of them.

Maddy sat down on the steps. This is where she spent most afternoons and evenings now, trying to avoid going inside until she could head straight to bed. Before Leif died, the memories that filled the house had given her strength; now, they haunted her like so many ghosts. The regret and shame of not being strong for him; the pain and anguish of not being able to say goodbye—these weighed heavily on her, poisoning even the happiest of recollections. One day he had been there, and the next, he was gone. She wished she could cry. At least that would have provided some sense of release, but every time she felt the sting of a salty tear beginning, the guilt flooded back. She had failed him.

Physically and emotionally exhausted, she leaned her head against the wooden rails that surrounded the porch and sighed. She wanted to give up, to stop existing, to stop feeling anything anymore. As the afternoon progressed, life continued in the neighborhood around her. Parents arrived home from work; a group of children played basketball in a nearby cul de sac. She was immune to all of it.

Her sense of time evaporated as the woman surrendered to the forlorn solitude that enveloped her like a cloud. There was no sense of future, no way forward, not even a foundation on which she could ground herself. Just… gray. It was all gray. Daddy had said this wasn’t the end when he got sick, but she felt as if her entire world had been destroyed, never to recover.

Hours later, Maddy realized that she hadn’t moved. The sun was beginning to set, and the oncoming night would soon force her to enter the house and confront its memories. It took all of her remaining strength to stand, turn, and climb the last two steps. That was when she noticed it.

Leaning against the front door was a white cardboard mailer. She picked it up, noticing that the handwritten return name was unfamiliar. She stared at the crosstown address for several moments, then flipped the mailer over and drew the pull tab across the length of it. Inside was a small package, wrapped in brown paper, and a note. The woman unfolded the letter and began to read.

Maddy, you don’t know me, but I’m one of the nurses who took care of your dad. I’m sorry that it’s taken me so long to get this to you. Right after he passed, I came down with COVID myself. The moment I was back on my feet, I took this to the post office. He made me promise to mail it to you when he was gone. Writing in this was all that he did every moment that he was awake.

The woman’s hands trembled as she withdrew the wrapped package. She slowly tore the paper open to reveal a small, black notebook—exactly like the journals her dad had written in every morning. She stared at it, frozen for a moment, heart racing in her chest. Drawing a deep breath, she opened the front cover.

There, in Leif’s distinct handwriting, were the words: “Hey darling,”

Maddy lost it. For the first time since that final FaceTime call, tears poured like a waterfall down her face. Sobs wracked her body, and she put the journal down for fear of drowning the ink. Each of the emotions in the gray cloud that had enveloped her for months raced to get out first, pushing and shoving as they bubbled to the surface. After the initial torrent had subsided, she picked up the journal.

Nearly every page was filled. Story after story of her life, told from his perspective, each bringing back positive emotions the woman had felt when he was around. Maddy smiled nostalgically as she read the initial entry, where he had written about the first time she walked. She hadn’t taken her first step until she was over a year old, choosing instead to intently study the toddlers and adults around her until she had memorized their gaits. The wait proved worth it: her first step was immediately followed by a second, then a third, and she nearly made it across the living room.

The woman remembered his all-encompassing love and affection when she read his account of the first time he’d taken her to see the Nutcracker. He reminisced about how excited she had been to get her hair done, to dress up, and go on her “first real date.” The journal told of how giddy she had been when they met the prima donna after the show, and how the sheer joy that shone from Maddy's face had caused Leif to fall in love with her all over again.

He recalled the lessons he had taught her, starting with the simple ones. Maddy grinned as she relived the memory at the Mexican restaurant, where she'd had a virgin blackberry daiquiri, and he'd taught her not to double-dip. That day, she learned the secret of breaking chips apart to get more salsa on each piece.

She blushed as she read his memories of her first crush. He recorded how she had asked him to drive her across town one weekend to deliver cookies to the young boy. She had been so nervous as they knocked on the door, but Daddy’s hand on her shoulder steeled her first-grade resolve. Leif wrote of the pride and joy he’d felt as he watched a grin spread across her face that was so grand, she positively glowed.

Maddy continued to read. It was all there, page after page: the story of their life together. The late-night talks, the shared movie dates, the passion he’d given her for cooking. After making it through the first third of the notebook, she had to stop. She was so emotionally drained that continuing wasn’t an option. The young woman slowly climbed to her feet, walked into the house, and collapsed on the couch.

~

The light streaming in from the window woke her. With a start, she glanced at the nearby clock and realized that she’d slept for fourteen hours. Still in her clothes from the night before, she glanced around in confusion, trying to make sense of the situation. Her eyes caught something on the coffee table—the journal.

She grabbed it so quickly that she nearly slapped herself. Flipping through the pages, she found her marker from the night before and began to read again. Hours passed, and the flood of positive emotion slowly and steadily eroded the gray cloud that had been her only companion for the last two months. She was reconnecting with him, and the warmth inside of her grew with each paragraph.

Maddy was 90 percent of the way through the journal when she flipped the next page and saw something that caused her heart to sink. Cut short before the last pages could be filled, there was one final sheet of writing. After that, it was blank. Without reading the entry, she rapidly flipped through the rest of the notebook and confirmed her worst fears. This was the last thing her father had written. The journal held one final message. She threw the book at the pillows on the couch in frustration, crossed her arms as she curled up across from it, and wept. She didn't want it to be over. It couldn't be through. Seeing the blank space brought a finality to her Daddy's passing that overwhelmed her.

An hour passed before she reached over and picked up the journal again. As much as she didn’t want this journey to end, she needed to read his final entry. The pages quietly riffled past her thumb; when the last page of writing appeared, she paused, took a deep breath, then began to read.

Hey darling,

Saying goodbye isn’t easy, and we don’t even use the right words—as if there was anything good about goodbyes. Even “farewell” falls short; I would rather fare well with you than without. A much better way is how the French say it: “au revoir,” which means “until we meet again.”

We're separated now, but it won't always be this way. Keep making me proud, as you've done with every breath you've ever taken. I'll always be there, even if you can't see me.

Au revoir, sweetie. This isn’t the end.

Maddy closed the journal and clutched it to her chest. The tears came freely now, but they were different. She realized the gift her dad had given her. For the first time, she was able to let go of the guilt, the shame, the fear, the regret. The anger she had directed at herself faded as it was replaced by his words of love.

“Au revoir, Daddy,” she whispered. “Until we meet again.”