Letters to my Daughter

Chapter 1

I always thought that things happened for a reason. Sleep in- reason something was going to happen on your way to work or school and you shouldn't be involved. Grab the wrong Starbucks order- reason maybe you are going to meet the love of your life. Death in the family- reason.... God if I know this one.

I sat in the drivers seat of the car with my eyes closed, and my head against the seat. Did I really need to be here? I mean its been years since I went to the farm. Would they really miss if I didn't come for this? I mean come on, after as long as its been- would anyone actually miss me? As the thoughts ran through my head, there was a knocking on the driver's side window. My eyes snapped open and I looked to the right- who would be knocking on the window of my car on a gravel road at 10am in the morning on a Saturday.

"Oh Mrs. Jones- Sorry, you got me there. How are you?"

"Mac it is you!" The 60 ish year old woman who I had known my entire life said as she looked in the window of my beat up Honda. I had known the Jones for as long as I had been alive and for as long as I could remember she always looked like someone's Grandma. She had white hair, and round glasses, and a face that reminded me of Mrs. Claus if she would have been a real person. She was a kind woman, who every year for Halloween would make home made candy apples, and chat with us in her kitchen giving us handfuls of candy every 5 mintues. She was one of my favourite people from my childhood, and when I saw her my heart gave a pain that I hadn't felt in a long time.

"How have you been my child? I was so sorry to hear the news. It came as such a shock to all of us. He was such a good man." She had placed her hand on my arm and gave a reassuring squeeze.

"I'm good.... I mean, okay. As good as you can be. It's been a while since I've been home, so ya know. Crappy situation and all. How are the kids?"

"Oh dear, yes it's been quite some time since we've seen you. Kids are well. Jacob just got a new job in the city, and his wife Mary and kids as now all moved there so haven't seen them in a bit but they are good. Robert is the same. I think he's somewhere in Japan right now teaching again. Who knows when he will be home. Has the family decided on when the funeral will be? We've been waiting to swing by to pay our respects." Tears were beginning to line her eyes. She had always been such a wonderful and kind soul, and seeing the wetness of her eyes made me think that coming here may have been a mistake.

"No No, not yet. Theres a reading or some legal stuff we are doing today and then ummm we have to figure all that out. I'll um make sure to let you know any details we get figured out today. On that I should probably get going I'm supposed to be at the farm for 11. It was really great seeing you Mrs. Jones." I smiled. Something about this little old lady who I had known forever made my heart feel something, and I liked the feeling.

"Please Mac, you can call my Judy. Mrs really does make me feel older than it should. Give my love to your family." Mrs. Jones- No Judy turned to walk away from my window and for a minute I watched her walk down the gravel road away from my car. I only spent maybe 3 hours a year with this woman as I grew up, but she always made me feel special. Seeing Mrs Jones- reason- I needed to feel some love today.

I pulled into the gravel laneway at 11:05am, and already could feel the tightness in my chest as I put the car in park. I could just turn around and leave, no one would know I was here. This was a mistake. I shouldn't have come. Maybe they wouldn't have seen my piece of shit Honda pull into the lane but when I saw the white door of the house open I knew it was too late.

I stared at the red brick house that was my Grandfather's. The house was old, built in the 1800's by farmers, and our family had owned it for almost 70 years. All of my extended family grew up in this house, and when half of it burnt down in the 60's due to a wood stove fire, they rebuilt it to its original glory. The house had a beautiful wrap around porch, and large french style doors at the front. And I could see the faces staring at me from the mudroom which stood outside the kitchen.

I sighed. I am already late. As usual. Let's get this done. I grabbed my purse from the front seat of my car, unbucked my belt and mentally prepared for war. I hadn't been back to the farm since I was 18 and was legally allowed to leave. I grew up here. We had a house across the lane from my Grandfather's. I knew almost every inch of this place, and yet it felt for foriegn to me, that part of me wondered if I had pulled into the wrong lane.

Walking up to the front doors, I heard a familiar voice, "Finally decided to show up for once I see. Figured you come when money was involved."

Looking to my right by the wooden bench swing sat my sister Romana. She was dressed in black pants, and a black shirt. Her long black hair was pulled into a pony tail, one that had been pulled just a bit too tight like her personality. She took a long drag off of the cigarette she held in her hand, and glared at me. "Some nerve you have to show up here. You shouldn't have come."

"Good morning Romana. Good to see you." It wasn't but I figured with everything going on today it wasn't worth the fight. "Don't worry I am not staying long, I just got a call from the lawyer that I needed to be here for the reading. Trust me I'll be gone as soon as I can". I turned on my heel to walk into the house, when she spat back at me "He never even cared if showed up you know. He never asked for you in the last days. He didn't even remember you existed. Which is how it should be".

I grabbed the golden handle of the door, and paused. I should just walk away. But then she wins. I took a breath, and turned the handle of the door, and walked into the mud room.

The reception I got entering the house was cool to say the least. A few hellos, and hugs from certain family. A couple of well wishes, and how ya beens, and I found myself standing in the corner of the large pink living room feeling like a child all over again. Romana was sitting with her husband Jonathan in the corner sending death glares my way every chance she got. I shouldn't be here. Looking at my watch, I saw we were nearing noon. What the hell was taking so long with this? How long does it take to read a will and move on? I was sure as hell not staying for funeral planning with the family who would barely make eye contact with me.

"Peanut! You been hiding over here this whole time?" I knew as soon as I heard my childhood nickname I knew that my Grandpa was there. Instantly a smile spread across my face, and I spun to see the one person in the family I hoped to see staring back at me. My Grandpa. He hadn't changed since the last time I saw him. He still stood with his shoulder back and square, and for a man nearing his ninties he still stood proud and strong. He had farmed his whole life, and his tanned skin, bald head, and big grin met me with wide spread arms. I walked over to him and gave him the biggest hug I had given anyone in a very long time.

Again I felt something I hadn't in a long time. Happiness. Love. I couldn't name it but my heart knew that it was a good thing.

"Papi how are you doing? I pulled away from the hug and looked at him. As we stood in what was once his home for over 60 years, all the memories of my childhood came rushing back to me. I could feel the tears wanting to come, but I held them back. I wasn't going to give my family the satification of seeing my break down.

My Grandpa was waving his hand "Oh you know how those nursing homes are. Full of old people waiting to die, and then there's the rest of us who want to get out" rising his eyebrows, giving the mischieveous wink that I knew meant he was up to no good while being there. He had fallen earlier in the year while climbing a ladder in the barn, and broken his hip. After an extensive surgery, and a lot of convincing my aunts had convinced him that it was time to retire from farm life, and spend his golden years in a home. He hated it. I hated him being there, but we both knew it wasn't the fight with the rest of my family.

"How are you holding up dear?" My Grandpa was looking with general concern towards me. The blue of his eyes had faded to grey, but he still looked like the man I remebered from my younger days.

"I'm good. You know just working lots. Got a couple of jobs I'm working on. Keeping busy. But I'm good."

"That's not what I am talking about and you know it".

"I know. But let's pretend it is for now". I gave him a reassuring squeeze of the hand, as the man in the dark grey suit walked into the room.

"Good afternoon everyone. I do apologize for the delay in getting started today however I do believe we now have all parties in attendance. My name is Grayson Davidson and I am the representative for one Mr. William Edward Sloan and his last will and testiment. We will be going through all the documentation today, and I will be reading Mr. Sloan's last wishes in regards to his assests, as well as his wishes for bruial. Let's get started.

I stared at the man Greyson Davidson, who was way to overly dressed for the room. He was tall and slender with salt and pepper hair. His glasses sat midway down his nose, as he spoke. He was a decent looking man, and made good eye contact. Something I was always taught was important. As he read the documentation, his eyes proceeded to scan across the room as he meantioned each person named in the will.

"To my daughter Romana. I leave the sum of $20000 and the deed to my house. Do what you want with the house as I know you and Jonathan already have your own space. Upon selling of the house, please put $50000 in each of the kid education funds to ensure they can go to college. I was unable to help you Romana with your college, but I want to ensure my Grandkids can focus on their schooling. whatever is left over do as you see fit."

Looking over at my sister, a smile spread across her face, with a smugness that was all to familiar from our childhood. Everyone knew she would sell the house, and do what she wanted with the money. Hopefully, she would at least set her kids up for success.

"To my daughter Mackenzie. Words can not describe my wishes for you and I know that this won't make up for missed time but I hope that you accept the items I have left you. To Mackenzie, I leave the sum of $20000. I also leave my car- the purple 1967 roadrunner. I ask that you take her out one more time before you do whatever you want with her. I regret that we did not get to take our road trip we always talked about but I hope you can give her one last spin for me. I love you kiddo. Dad."

I stood in the living room mouth agape. $20000 and his car? What was he thinking? Slowly I began to realize that everyone was looking at me.

"She doesn't deserve his car. I was supposed to get it. She didn't even.. This... " My sister was up in arms moving towards Mr. Davidson demanding to see the paperwork.

"Papi- did you know he was going to leave me his car?"

"No, but I think it's fitting. I've got a guy I know who can give her a once over for you, make sure she's tip top shape for you"

"Papi no you should keep it. I don't feel right about taking it".

The room was voices everywhere, and Mr. Davidson's voice was the next thing I heard.

"Ladies and Gentlemen please. Please. I think we all need to just take some time and digest. I suggest we take a 15 minute break before we continue in the funeral readings. We will commense the reading at 2pm for funeral arrangements. "

I stood with my back against the living room wall, as Mr. Davidson walked to where I was standing.

"Miss Sloan. Grayson Davidson. We didn't get a chance to meet earlier. I am truly sorry for your loss. Your father was a dear friend." He extended his hand out. "Oh Hi. Um I think there's been a mistake. I shouldn't be getting anything in the will. I hadn't spoken to my father in like 6 years so this makes no sense. I just-"

"Mac- may I call you Mac? Your dad always did, so I feel like I know you." He paused and caught what he was saying. "Sorry. Unprofessional. Miss Sloan- I was very close with your father over the years, and I can 100% say without a doubt. He wanted you to make sure he had the car and the money. I'm sorry I need to step away for a moment but I hope we can speak before you leave."

My head was swimming. Why did my father- a man who I hadn't seen in close to 6 years give me one of the things he held dearest in the world? What was the reason behind this? We weren't close. We hadn't been close since I was 11 years old. Not since my Mom had passed away, and he proceeded to drink his feelings away. I hadn't spoken to him since I was 18 years old and told him what I thought about him. How his drinking had ruined my life and how I hated him. Did I hate him? At that moment I wasn't sure anymore. I didn't want his car. I didn't want the money. I didn't know what I wanted but I knew this wasn't it. Standing with my thoughts, as the afternoon proceeded and finally at 4pm we had finished going through all the plans.

We were going to do my father's funeral in the coming days, and then his burial 6 weeks from then. He wish to be cremeated and placed with our mom in the family cememtary. Seemed fitting that even in his death, he wanted to be with our mom. He had spent the rest of the life he had had drinking his sorrow away after she died, and ultimately that was what had killed him. Seemed like a perfect end to me.

I hugged my Grandpa goodbye and promised to come by in the home to see him before I left to head back to the city. We still had the funeral in the coming days so I needed to go and find a hotel to stay at.

"Miss Sloan, Miss Sloan!" Mr. Davidson was walking towards me at a hurried rate. "Miss Sloan, please wait. Sorry. Umm before you go, I had a few things I needed to discuss with you."

"Look if this is about the car, please can we just put it in my Grandpa's name or sister. I don't want to cause-" "No, No. I have other matters to speak with you about" He was cutting me off again, which had been the second time he had done that today. Normally if a guy was to cut me off I would have given him a piece of my mind, however he looked exhausted, and I actually felt bad for him. Hell I felt bad for me having to deal with my family, so I could only imagine how he felt.

"Mr. Davidson- look I'm" "Grayson. Please call me Grayson" Third time. "Ok, Grayson. Look I'm sorry for how my family acted in there today. We are all pretty hard headed as I'm sure you heard from my father...."

"Yes, Yes. I knew what I was getting myself into by taking on your father's estate. He was a really good man Mackenzie- I mean Miss Sloan. I know you guys had some issues but he loved you. Talked about you constantly. He was really proud of you. Even if he didn't tell you himself. He was."

I was taken aback by his comments. My father- proud of me. Hell he didn't even know what I had been doing over the last years of my life. How could he be proud of me. "I'm sorry Mr. Davidson," I stammered, "but how did you become so close with my father?"

"He mentored me. Helped me. Actually," He paused, "He helped to save my life. You see we met in AA actually." He took a long breath. He looked more exhausted in that moment than he had just previously looked. "Your Dad became my sponsor, and for the last 3 years he's been supporting me. I got into drinking pretty heavy in law school, and almost lost my license to practice after a DUI. My wife left me, and your Dad helped me get through the early days when things are the hardest when in recovery. I'm sober because of him"

Standing there Mr. Grayson Davidson looked smaller than he had while standing in my Grandfather's living room. His jacket looked one size to big all of a sudden, and his shoulders sank for the first time that day. Behind his glasses it looked as if his hazel eyes were beginning to dampen. I could tell he was upset, and in that moment I felt bad for him. I could tell that he had lost a friend too, not just a client.

"I'm sorry- my Dad was sober? And he was a sponsor? What are you talking about? My Dad drank his whole life away and that't what killed him." Why was I becoming so hostile towards this man I had just met? He didn't know my Dad during my childhood. He didn't see the years of me making dinners, and putting him to bed drunk. Yet he pretended to know- no assume he knew what was father was like.

"Miss Sloan, your Dad,- " He stopped. I could tell he was trying to find the right words to use with me. He took his glasses off and proceeded to clean them with the edge of his shirt. "He would have been going on 6.5 years, if he wouldn't have gotten sick. When he got his diagnosis he asked if I would help him with the estate, and of course I said yes. Listen- your Dad, he was a good man and there's a lot more you need to know."

As I stood there looking at Mr. Grayson Davidson, I felt that pain in my chest again- the same feeling I had while talking with Mrs. Jones earlier that day. I had no connection to this man, but something about him- whether it was his conviction about how great my father was, or the look of saddness in his eyes, but I was really feeling bad about my hostility towards him.

"Look I was going to go and get some dinner and find a hotel to stay at for the funeral. Have you had a chance to eat since dealing with all this shit today?" What the hell was I saying. I didn't know this guy, and here I was asking him if he had eaten that day. "I mean-" I took a deep breath in. "If you want- I mean, as you've noticed I'm not super close with my family and I need to eat, so if you want you can join me and you can tell me more about what you think you know about mine and my father's relationship."

What the hell was I doing? I didn't owe this guy anything, and here I was inviting him out for dinner? Had I become that desperate that I needed validation from someone who claimed they knew my father? I turned to open my car door, when he spoke, " I'd really love to join you for dinner" he placed his hand on my arm as he looked me in the eyes. I felt a jolt of excitement dance across my skin from where his hand was placed. "I want to tell you more about the William I knew, and actually get to know you." His eyes no longer looked sad, but had a brightness about them that reminded me of someone.

Chapter 2

Making a date with random stranger- Reason- I had clearly gone insane. That was the only explanation. Maybe the grief was hitting me in a way that I didn't notice. Was I greiving? I didn't feel like I was, however they say that the mind does like to play tricks you on.

I had found a hotel room, showered and unpacked some clothes. After the events of the day, and being at the farm, I needed to get the feeling of family off of me. Except now I was sitting in a bar, drinking a glass of Pinot meeting my father's lawyer to learn more about him. Oh my God, I was meeting a recovering alcoholic in a bar. I looked around the crowded estabilishment in order to make a hasty exit, when a voice called my name.

"Miss Sloan" I turned to see a tall man walking towards me in a black bomber jacket with the zipper undone. He half waved in my direction as he began to walk towards me. He wore dark blue jeans, and a grey pullover sweater. He has clearly gone home and changed since we spoke, and I barely recognized him as he walked towards me. He wasn't wearing his glasses, and I hadn't noticed it before but his beard stood out in the lighting of the bar. He looked good, and for a moment I found myself caught off guard as I stared at him.

"Miss Sloan, good to see you. I'm glad you made it." He reached his hand out and placed it on my shoulder. In that moment I realized I was half standing, sitting as I had realized I was in the mist of trying to make my escape from the bar. My voice caught in my throat, and I took a moment to compose myself.

"I'm sorry if I kept you waiting. I just wanted to get home and change out of the monkey suit. Most of my clients don't mind the jeans and sweater, but I find when doing what I did today- better impression on the rest of the family you know?" He sat down beside me in the oversized green lounge chair to my right. I sat and turned to face him.

"Mr. Davidson, I'm sorry I just realized we shouldn't be here." As the words came out of my mouth, his smile dropped and his face had a moment of disappointment across it. "What I mean is a bar. I wasn't thinking when I suggested this place. You know with your recovery and all"

His eyes lit back up. "Oh being in the bar! Gotcha. I thought you meant coming to speak with me! No, no not at all we are good. Just because I am in recovery doesn't mean that the people I spend time with should have to suffer. I do most of my work in bars like this so I am comfortable. As long as you are comfortable if I drink coffee at almost 8pm at night." He twisted his wrist to look at the time, and the silver watch moved along his arm. I was drawn to his arm as he moved his body. Something about this man made me want to monitor and watch his movements. Not in a bad way, but more of a curiousity. Watch his movements- reason- undeturmined at this time.

"Your Dad actually gave me this watch." His words snapped me back to reality. "When I hit my 1 year sober. He got it as a gift for me. He said this way if I needed a drink and couldn't get to a meeting it was a way to remember people cared about my soberity." He was looking down at his wrist and a small smile came across his face. "We should try to get a table. This place has great pizza, if that's your thing, and this amazing olive bread. And I don't know about you but I'm starving," He stood and reached his hand out towards me. And I took it, standing to follow him to a table.

What the hell was I doing? I don't grab men's hands to get up. I am an indepentant, confident women- who was this Grayson Davidson, and why was he having this effect on me.

We slide into the booth the waitress showed us to. He ordered a black coffee, and I ordered my second glass of wine. I don't know why I felt like I needed to have a drink to process the information we were going to talk about, but I figured it couldn't hurt. Maybe I was more like my father than I thought.

We chatted for a while about where we lived, school, jobs- making nicities until the meal came. God he was right, this was some of the best pizza I had ever had, and the olive bread was to die for. Though I didn't necessarily think my family needed another death at the moment. However, if it was mine I doubt they would have cared.

"So tell me what else you know about me? You said you and my father used to talk about me all the time so what he tell you?" I was preparing myself for the critism that I was used to hearing with my family, but instead he wiped his hands with his napkin, and looked me dead in the eyes. In this moment I regretted the way I asked the question, as it felt like his hazel eyes were going to stare through my soul. And then he turned his head to the left, breathed in, and smiled. "I think my favourite story your Dad used to tell me about you was the one when you and him got the bright idea to fix your mom's car with an apple juice can. He always claimed it was your idea to use the can, until two days later when the car caught fire and then you claimed you had no idea what he was talking about."

"Woah, ok first off it wasn't my idea to use the can, I had just suggested we use something "Like" the can. He. I repeat he grabbed the can!", I laughed. Wait. I hadn't laughed while talking about my father in years. " Sorry, I uh. Yeah. I haven't thought about that story in a very long time. Those were definitaly the better days before"

"Before he started drinking and your mom died. He told me about her. He said she was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. That was until you and your sister were born." Grayson was looking down at the table as he spoke. "He told me that when your sister was born he was happy she was there and healthy, but the way he spoke about you. I hope someday if I become a father, I will feel like he said he did when you were born. He said he held you after you were here, and that you were tiny, and perfect. And that you looked up at him with those bright blue eyes and in that moment he met the most beautiful woman in the world. Someone who would make a change in his life for the better." Grayson looked up from the table and our eyes met. They were sad like they were before, "I'm sorry that, that was unprofessional Mackenzie I'm-"

I stood from the booth and grabbed my purse. I walked out of the restuarant through the back door. I needed to get out of there. What was I thinking? Why did I ever think coming and meeting my father's lawyer who was his friend was a good idea. Stupid. God. This was a huge mistake.

"Mackenzie.... Miss Sloan please wait" I heard his voice after me. I was standing at my car trying to get the door to open when he caught up to me in the parking lot. "Miss Sloan. I am so sorry. I have over stepped my bounds, and that was very inappropriate of me but please, please don't leave."

"Mr. Davidson, I'm sorry I shouldn't have come. This was a mistake. I don't need or want to know about my father and some lines he told you to make you feel sympathy for him. He was a liar, and a drunk. And I am clearly his daughter, who thinks it's a good idea to get into her car and drive away after having some drinks, so thank you but I'm going to walk and go back to my hotel room and head back to the city in the morning. Thank you for dinner but I gotta", I turned to walk away from him, as he reached out and grabbed my arm.

"Mackenzie please wait." Something in his voice made me pause. " Please, I over stepped my bounds here. You are right. I don't know you. I just know stories you father told me. I apologize, but please don't go yet I have something for you." What, what could you have for me, I thought. Panic began to come over me. I don't know this guy. What's to say he isn't going to kidnap or hell kill me. He is clearly obsessed with my father and god knows what else-

"It's something more from your dad." My thoughts instantly stopped. "He asked me not to give it to you during the will reading. He said it was for you only, and that he really wanted you to have it. He thought your sister would try to take it, like she does everything else. So please here take it."

I turned back to face him. In his hands he held a black notebook. It looked to be leather, and had ties that wrapped around the book to hold it closed. Tying the book shut was a large black button, and instantly I knew this was from my father. I remembered seeing this book when I was a child. He always kept it hidden in the upper cabinet of the kitchen I grew up in. When I was younger I used to use his chair in the kitchen to stand on to reach the cupboards and carefully take the book out. I would set the book on our kitchen table and run my fingers along the edges of the paper . I would untie and retie the ties and I always wondered what my father was going to use the book for. In all the years I lived with my father I had never seen him ever write anything in this book, and I hadn't thought about it in years.

"Where did you get that?" I didn't realize that my voice had begun to crack.

"Your dad wanted you to have this. He said you would know what it was, and that he hoped it made a lot of sense to you." Grayson held the book out to me. Hands shaking I reached out and touched the cold leather against my fingers. Instantly I was transported back to being 7 years old and sitting in my father's black chair in the corner of our kitchen.

"I'm sorry I should have given you to this sooner. I didn't mean to upset you." He looked sincere while speaking. "I wanted a chance to get to give it to you, and to let you know that your Dad was really a a good man. I know that he had regrets about how things ended with you both, and from what he told me he hoped that this book would help you understand a bit more." He was now looking at the ground again, head tipped down and he looked small again like he did when we spoke outside of my car earlier that day.

"Thank you." It was the only thing I could muster to say. I turned the book over in my hands, feeling closer to my father than I had in years just by holding this simple black leather book. "I should go. It's getting kind of late and with the services tomorrow I should head back to the hotel and get some rest for tomorrow." I reached my hand out to touch his shoulder, and as I did our eyes met. "Will you be there tomorrow?"

"Yes, I was hoping to come and pay my respects again to the rest of your family. Most of them don't know the full extent of my relationship I had with your father, so I will be there moreso in a professional manner. That is if I haven't made you uncomfortable with being there and -"

"No absolutely. I feel like you knew him more than most of us. You should be there." It was true. This man who I had met less than 24 hours earlier knew more about my father, and more about me for that fact then the rest of my family. He should be there. "Thank you Grayson. Truly, thank you for tonight. I think I needed to have someone to talk to so I appreciate it. I should be going though. Tomorrow will be a long day surrounding by my family so I suggest you get some rest too." I realized my hand was still on his shoulder. I quickly removed it and felt myself blush. It must have been the wine. "I'm going to walk back to the hotel and clear my head but I look forward to seeing you tomorrow. Thanks again for the book."

Chapter 3

As I sat on the edge of the hotel bed staring at the journal that sat on the table before me I wondered what my father had been so compelled to write in it. Was I actually going to read whatever he had put in there? Did I actually care? This man had all but abandoned me over the last 6 years. Granted the last time we spoke I told him I never wanted to speak to him again, so maybe it was I who had abandoned him. But did it really even matter? If he had actually gotten sober and wanted a relationship, he could have reached out to. I flopped back onto the bed with my legs hanging over the edge. "Seriously, why did you have to die?" I said outloud as a single tear escaped down my cheek.

We had scheduled the first visitation that morning at 11am, followed by another one in the evening for 7pm. Apparently in the time I had been away my father had become very popular in numerous community groups. The ladies who he went to church with were extermely upset, as were the members of his AA group. I learned about how wonderful of a sponsor he had been to a few different people. Each one offered hugs and words of encouragement to get through these trying times. I felt empty and insincere in my words back to them. I accepted their condolences, but I struggled to give mine back to them. It felt like they should have been the one standing by my father's coffin, not me.

"Hey, I brought you this. I figured you would need it by now" I spun around to see Grayson standing in front of me holding a coffee cup. "Your Dad told me you liked 1 cream 1 sugar so I hope it hasn't changed" He was dressed in a fitted black suit, and white shirt. His tie was blue, and he had a reassuring smile on his face.

"Oh my yes thank you. After the ladies from the church came through I didn't think I was going to make it through the rest of this so you are a life saver. Thanks!" I took a long sip of the coffee and immediately I began to feel revived.

"When did you get here? I didn't see you come in?" I asked.

"I got here early this morning. I was helping Father Abrams with the preparations for the service. He helps to run our AA meetings so he was close with your Dad as well. I noticed when the church ladies were here you were looking a bit worse for wear so I figured caffeine."

"Well you figured right. Thank you" We chatted for a while as the line up for the visitation was beginning to die down. After the last person had gone through the line, and I made more condolences to others, the family decided to leave for a while and meet back up before the next visitation. Grayson had been talking to other family members when I realized I was now alone in the room with my father's open casket.

I slowly walked towards where my father lay. For all of my sister's faults, she had done a wonderful job at picking the right suit for him to be wearing. He was dressed in a dark grey, double breasted suit with a light blue shirt underneith. In his pocket they had put a blue pocket square, and the artist who did his makeup had outdone herself. He looked like how I remembered him. He actually looked better than I remembered him. His face had filled out over the years, and he had been given a warm glow about him. He looked like he had put on some weight but he could always carry it well whenever he did. I remembered before my mom had passed she would always tell him she liked him with a bit of meat on his bones. Standing at the edge of my father's coffin I slowly reached a hand out and placed in onto his clasped hands. He felt cold to the touch which took me aback. He looked so handsome and comfortable like he was sleeping I for a moment forgot that he was gone.

I needed to get out of there. I ran out of the room, and through the double doors out into the parking lot of the funeral home. As the cool air hit my face I was overcome with such grief- no guilt that I immediately raced to the bushes beside the lot and threw up.

"Hey, hey you ok?" Standing up and bringing my hand to my mouth I saw Grayson running in my direction.

"Uh- yeah- just uh. Its been a-" He stretched his hand out and offered me a cloth. With shaking hands I took it, and slowly walked over to a nearby bench. As I sat, he slowly walked towards me and stood at the edge of the bench.

"Wanna talk about it?" "No. No I don't." I was sitting with my elbows on my knees and my hands cupped in front of my face. Where was this feeling coming from? I didn't feel particularly close to my father. Why was I feeling like I had lost one of the most important people in my life? He didn't even call me his daughter on my birthday, why was I feeling sad about his death? We were more aquatiances at this point in our lives. Scrath that. My life. He no longer had a life. Now he was laying there in the polished walnut casket that Romana had picked out, and after tomorrow his body was going to be sent for cremation.

I couldn't stop the stream of tears that flowed from my eyes as I sat in the sun on a bench next to a funeral home parking lot. After what felt like an enternity, I lifted my head with eyes closed towards the heat of the sun. When did it get so warm? Taking a deep breath in, I slowly opened my eyes and noticed that Grayson was still standing next to me.

"Sorry, you definiately didn't need to see that. I'm ok I just had a moment."

"Moments happen. Have you ever heard the quote "Without rain nothing grows. Learn to embrace the storms in your life?" I shook my head that I hadn't. "During one of my first AA meetings someone said that quote. The idea behind it is that failures are important for us to have in our lives because they only shape us for the better. The storms not only come to dismantle our lives but also clear our paths. Life has its own meaning, and we should never lose hope and trust in God. God is preparing us for so much better and a more meaningful life. Death is a part of that. It is the one storm that normally shakes us the most, and causes the most chaos, and hopefully we can take the new path created by the storm and learn from it."

"No matter what our path we decide to take, I have to believe that there is always a reason for it and an outcome that is meant for us." Sitting on the bench Grayson looked almost hopeful as he spoke the words. "I never really believed in God, or anything more than this," he said as he waved his hand "but throughtout the storms I've faced I have to believe that there's more than this, and that there is a path and a plan. Your Dad taught me that."

As he spoke the words I felt the sun hit my skin even more warmly, and for that exact moment it felt as if I was being held by one of my father's bear hugs that he used to give me when I was younger.

"Grayson, my father was more than a sponsor for you wasn't he?"

Taking a deep breath in, Grayson tilted his own head towards the sky and breathed out. "Yes. Yes he was." He looked at me in the eyes, his own hazel eyes wet with tears, and his voice was beginning to crack. "Remember when I said your Dad was my sponsor and helped me in the beginning of my rehab? I wasn't exagerating when I said that." He cleared his throat, and rubbed his hands together as they laid in his lap. "Early on in my recovery, I didn't think I could do it, and I thought.... I thought it didn't matter if I was here anymore. My wife had left me, my career was in shambles, my family wasn't speaking with me, and I thought it would just be better if I wasn't here anymore. So I drank a bottle of vodka, and took a bunch of pills I had, and loaded the gun in a hotel room. And as I sat there on the bed with the gun in my hands, my phone rang. It was your Dad. I had missed a meeting and he was worried about me so he called. I don't know why I answered the phone, but I did. He could tell that I had been drinking, and he talked to me the whole time that he was travelling to the hotel. He got management to open the door, and he found me before I shot myself, and got me to the hospital. He stayed with me the whole time, and never told anyone. He helped my get a therapist after I got out of the hospital. " Grayson laughed, "He also said he buried my gun somewhere no one would ever find it. Which he said was a shame because it was a nice gun but he couldn't sell it. Everything happens for a reason, and I think there must be a reason he called that night, and that I answered. And now that he's gone I want to figure out what that reason is. I feel like I owe it to him."

"Grayson. I -"

"Hey it's okay. If I didn't feel comfortable to tell you I wouldn't have. But yes, your Dad was more to me than just a sponsor. He was one of my closest friends."

The rest of that day felt like a blur. Grayson and I went after our emotionally exhausting midday and got some food to eat, and he came back to the funeral home for the evening visitation. As group after group came through the home, I learned how much of an impact my father had on numerous people. I learned that he volunteered at the local men's shelter helping get resources out to people, sponsoring people, going to church and all in all being the best neighbour and friend anyone had had in the last 6 years, it seemed like he had lived a completely different life than the one I thought I knew.

"Thanks for the ride." I was sitting in Grayson's car outside of the hotel I was staying at. He shut the car off, and we sat in silence for a few moments.

"Did he ever tell you why he never reached out to me?" I looked over to Grayson in the driver's seat of the car. "I mean he helped all of these other people. Got his life back on track it seems, and yet couldn't pick up a phone to call and tell me? What the hell is with that? It's not like I'm that hard to find."

"I wish I had an answer for you, but I don't. All I know is that he was very proud of you, and he always knew what you were doing in your life. I wouldn't want to put words into his mouth but perhaps he didn't know how to reach out to you."

"But I was his daughter! He could have- should have" The tears were streaming down my face. I couldn't hold my emotions in any longer. "He helped all of these other people but yet he couldn't even pick up the phone and speak with me one more time before he died."

We sat in silence in his car for the next little while, and then he reached across and grabbed my hand. I felt the electric shock again as his skin touched mine. He gave a reassuring squeeze of my hand, and I put my head back against the headrest and looked at him. He reached up and tucked a piece of hair back from my eyes.

"I don't have the answers for you, and I am so sorry for that. But know he did love you. So very much. You made him so proud with everything you did. I hope that you are able to find the answers you need because you deserve that."

Chapter 4

Back in my hotel room, I kicked off my shoes and flopped onto the bed. I had known that today would be exhausting but I had no idea just how exhausting. Seeing all of the people my father had known, and how much of an impact he had on their lives made me jealous of them, and begin to hate him even more for not reaching out.

I slipped off the black dress I was wearing and wrapped a towel around my body. Perhaps a hot bath would help me clear my head and help with the sleep that had been eluding me since his passing. I sat in the hotel tub, staring at the white walls trying to think about all the good times I had with my father. I remembered him helping me build a tree fort, and the time we got the bright idea to put up tire swings off of the big maple tree that stood in our front yard. I could remember him pushing me higher and higher and telling me to make sure I didn't let go. The thoughts were actually making me smile as I thought about him.

But then that all changed. When my mom passed, he became a different man. He always said she was the love of his life, and that he couldn't go on without her. His drinking became more noticiable after the first year she was gone. At least thats when I noticed it. It started out slowly. On weekends with the boys. Then moved into multiple nights a week. I was in highschool when it became a major problem. He was having to drink in the morning to get through the day, and when he ended up in county lockup for the night and a DUI was when everything came to a head.

Romana was already out of the house when that happened and I can remember getting the call to come and pick him up. I was 15. I couldn't even legally sign him out, so I had to call my grandpa to help me. He was so disappointed in my father, and I could hear the shouts of the fight from the kitchen as he told him so. I can remember putting my headphones on, and blasting the music so I could drown out the sounds. I knew in that minute my father was not ok, and most likely never would be. Here I am now, years later learning that in the end he was able to turn it around.

I crawled under the blankets of the bed and as I turned to shit off the lamp, I noticed the black journal sitting on the table. I hadn't been able to bring myself to open it yet. I still hadn't decided if I wanted to know what my father had written in his last years. Swinging my feet off of the bed, I reached out to touch the journal. It was cool to the touch, and the leather felt rough like the book had been well loved. Propping myself against the headboard, I began to run my fingers along the ties that keep the book shut, and grabbed the leather. Slowly, I unwrapped the leather ties from around the button, and as I finished the last loop the journal fell open.

I could see page after page of black ink scribbled in my dads writing along the pages. I was still unsure of if I wanted to know what he had to say to me, but seeing the words printed there made my heart hurt. I closed the journal and held it to my chest as I wept.

I wept for the loss of my dad. I wept for the loss of the childhood memories that were now fueled with alcohol. I wept for the words I said to him when I left. I wept that I would never be able to tell him I was sorry. Clutching the journal the exhaustion took over me as I cried myself to sleep.

"Ok Mac, I need you to hold the flashlight over here. I am going to connect the jumpers to the battery but I need you to hold that so I can see what I am doing. Got it?"

"Yes Daddy."

"Ok, so when we are jumping a car what do we need to remember?"

"Black first, to make sure we ground it. Then red."

"And why is that?"

"Because you will get a shock if you don't! Right Dad? Just like Uncle Mike!"

"HAHA yes, yes just like Uncle Mike"

I awoke with a shock. The light in the hotel was still on, and I looked at the clock. 3:26 am. I still had hours to sleep before the events of the day, and I yawned as I stretched out my sore body. I still had the journal lying on my chest, unbound waiting for me to begin reading it.

I opened the journal to the front page. I stared at the ink, still not sure if I should read the words written. "Ok, I read the first page, and if I finished that and don't want to read anymore then I will give it away. " I didn't feel confident in my words, but it was just a journal. How much could he have written.

"Mackenzie,

If you are reading this, then unfortunately I have passed without getting to make things right with you, and for that I am so incrediably sorry. I know those words may sound empty coming from me but there is no other way to say it. I am sorry for not being the father you and your sister deserved. I am sorry for putting my own selfish needs before both of you. Nothing I could ever say can make that up to you.

When the doctor has told me that I have a limited amount of time left in this world and I needed you to know the things that have happened since you left. I wanted to honor your wishes by leaving you alone, but when I found out I was sick - I tried to call you. Hell everyday for over 6 years I tried to call you. I just never had a the courage to do so. And maybe this book is me still not having the courage, but I am hoping that if you decide to read this, maybe, just maybe you can forgive me just a little bit.

There were so many things we talked about doing as a family, and I prevented us from doing that. I will take that guilt to my grave. But you have become such a beautiful, smart, independent women dispite the emmense shortcomings I had as a father. You remind me so much of your mother, and for that I am so grateful.

I hope that you read this book. I hope that it gives you some comfort. We talk about writing our feelings and thoughts down in AA, and I guess thats what some of this is. My thoughts, feelings, and things I wish I would have told you. I will always be with you.

I love you a bushel and a peck.

~Dad"