#deardad

Hi Dad. I've been missing you a lot lately. School has been difficult and stressful, and I've gotten very depressed. Moments like this are when I would call you. But I can't call you anymore.

My grief lingers; looming near me as a churning, dull void. Sometimes it feels like I can't picture you clearly. When I say that I'm depressed because I miss you, that doesn't really capture it. My whole body grieves. Even when my mind is on other things or completely empty, my limbs feel heavy.

I've asked for extensions for certain classes. Some days, I skip class because I am too exhausted to get out of bed. I feel guilty for skipping class, but I know that if I go, I'll end up crying in the bathroom, or be so drained after class that I can't complete any work.

I don't know if I'm going to go home for Thanksgiving. It would be the first time I'm at the house since you passed. You passed away in your bedroom. Mom has left all your clothes and dresser knick-knacks as they were. I think it might be too much for me, especially since I have to come right back for finals.

Dad, I've started attending Quaker meetings. I know it's not quite what you would hope, as you prefer that I attend an evangelical church, but I think you would accept me becoming a Quaker. Each time I attend the Friends meeting, I feel refreshed, like I can meet the day. That sense of euphoria doesn't last too long, though. I hope that with continued practice, I'll be able to better manage my emotions throughout the day so that I feel less stressed and sad.

During today's meeting, we sat outside. A lot of people attended today. We sat in a circle under these large trees, and while we worshipped in silence, the cicadas sang. It felt glorious. My mind wanders during the hour of worship. Today, in my worship, I kept returning to the word renewal. Yesterday, I felt like I was wading through a fog. When I got home, my room smelled like rotten eggs, and I realized that the large philodendron I'd been propagating had developed root rot. I took the plant outside and cut away the affected areas. It ended up being most of the root system, so I stuck the remaining plant in fresh water and have started propagating again. This action of tending to the plant was so simple yet it made me feel at peace for at least a moment. It was satisfying to be able to care for something. During the Quaker worship this morning, I thought of that plant and how it connected to how I felt during your end of life care. I saw an interview where the facilitator asked the interviewee if there was something in their life that felt like prayer. The interviewee talked about how caring for their sick mom felt like prayer; like a holy ritual. I see your last weeks in that way. It felt holy.

I started my second year of grad school today. I had to sort out my loan payment at the financial aid office, and I sat in the waiting room for a bit as the office workers looked at my case. The financial aid office is located in the same building as the admissions office, and it just so happened that campus tours were being conducted. I watched as parents sat with their teenage children, looking through brochures and chatting about what they were going to eat for dinner. It reminded me of all the college visits we went on together.

I remember one time you and I drove to a small college three hours away from our house. We got to spend the whole day together. During the campus tour, you suddenly needed to go to the bathroom, and you wandered off to find a restroom without telling me. At one point, I looked behind me, and you were gone. I immediately felt a little panicked (and slightly embarrassed), but I continued with the tour. I don't remember if you caught up with the tour or if I found you later. I do remember that we walked through the college town. I think we stopped for something to eat.

You told me a few times that before you met Mom, you had come to accept the possibility that you would never have children. When you married Mom, you were almost 50. To see me apply to college and visit different campuses was the culmination of a dream that you never thought would come true for the majority of your life. Sometimes I wished that you had raised the bar for me; you loved me too much, too unconditionally. But of course, that was my brain keeping me from accepting the goodness in my life. I was happy to have you as my dad, and to make you proud just by existing. So I'll keep on existing for you.

Love you always,

I want to remember everything about you. Your full, beautiful life. I know I will get to those days of peaceful, loving remembrance. However, we're a month out from your passing, and right now I'm stuck remembering your time in hospice and the day you died.

You died in the evening. I was sitting beside you, as was Mom and Ben. Aunt C. and Aunt N. were sitting in the room as well. My therapist had told me that I would be able to see the moment your spirit/breath left your body. I don't think I caught it. Your breathing had grown so quiet and slow. While you died, Ben kept his hand on your heart. I think he was attempting to catch the moment as well.

You had been mostly sleeping the past couple of days. The breaths sometimes laboured, sometimes quiet. When you couldn't drink anymore, Aunt C. and I would wet small sponges on sticks and gently lay them on your tongue and against the walls of your mouth. I couldn't tell if you liked it or not. One of the most challenging parts was trying to anticipate your care because you couldn't answer back anymore. Sometimes you would say a faint hi. On your last day, I greeted you, and you opened your eyes slightly and said, "You're still here?" I said, "Yes, Dad, I'm here as long as you need me. I'm here until the end." And you said, "That's good." Or something like that. What I remember clearest is your "You're still here?" Were you in a state where you weren't quite sure whether you had passed or not? Maybe when you closed your eyes, you were between worlds, one foot in each plane of reality.

That's all I have to say for now.

I've been thinking about doing this for a while now, but I held back because I'm a very private person—and you always told me not to put everything out there.

But Dad, lately, it's been feeling really sad and lonely. I haven't been able to tell anyone what's going on in my life. I feel like I've been torn away from my friends because of our "busy schedules." When I moved out of the apartment I shared with them, it felt like I lost the bond we had. I know we still see each other from time to time—and maybe it's just FOMO—but I’ve really been feeling left out.

As for my best friend, she's also caught up in her own life and struggles. And as her best friend, I want to make things easier for her, just like she did for me during my tough days.

What I really need, Dad, is someone who will listen—to the most random stories from my daily encounters with people: the juicy, the shocking, the irritating, the happy, the funny, and even the completely ordinary. You know, the kind of stories I used to tell you during our car rides home? Sometimes there was a sermon at the end, but you always listened anyway.

You might say, "What about him?" like you always do. And I’d probably say nothing—or make up some excuse, like I always do. But the truth is, Dad, as much as I love him, I feel lonely even when I’m with him. I'm scared to bring it up because I know I’ll just be gaslighted. My feelings will be dismissed, as if I have no right to feel the way I do. He’ll make it all about him, like he always does.

Dad, you've been such a great father that I used to wish for someone like you. And I did find someone like you. But I forgot—while you were an amazing father to us, and a great friend to Mom, you weren’t a great husband to her. Still, that never stopped you from being a good person.

Maybe he and I were never meant to be a lifelong love, but like you and Mom—two beautiful souls better as friends—because while he is exceptional in many ways, as a partner, he holds my hand but leaves my heart in tears.

You set the standard for what it means to love as a father. I’m sorry for settling into a situation that doesn’t meet that. I know he’s a good man, just like you. But I also know I deserve to be loved the way you loved me.

Dear dad,

We’re just going as fast as we can. We’ve barely stopped in days, and we’re running out of food faster than we thought we would. 

We needed to resupply at that stupid festival, and we didn’t get the chance to do so. I don’t know what we’re going to do about it. Grace has been walking alongside the cart looking for more edible plants, and we’ve been supplementing our rations with them. The amount that she’s finding isn’t enough, though. We can add it to things, but it takes a while to cook and prepare, and even if it’s helping, it’s making us slow down so we don’t lose her. 

I’m seriously worried that we’re going to accidentally leave her behind. Even though she mostly walks by the cart, she constantly ducks off into the woods on either side of the path to grab more of the stuff, and we lose sight of her so fast. We didn’t stop, but I jumped out of the cart a couple of times to keep an eye on her and the cart so we didn’t end up leaving her behind. 

I almost want to tell her to stop. It’s even more stressful trying to make sure we don’t leave her behind on accident. The amount of food she’s getting isn’t enough for her actions to be worth it. 

We’re pushing the horses really hard, too. I think constantly having people jump off and climb onto the cart while they’re in mid-motion isn’t the best. The horses are okay, though. I mean, I think they’re okay. They at least have enough to eat. There seems to be stuff they like to eat whenever we actually stop. I wish I could say the same. 

We haven’t run across any towns yet, but hopefully, we will soon; we need to stop somewhere and figure out where we are. I mean, we know where we are. Still, Willow's maps are functionally useless because we’re not in the other kingdom anymore. We don’t know where anything is for this kingdom. We haven’t even run across any people so far. We haven’t seen anyone since we left the little town on the kingdom's edge. Now, I’m pretty sure we haven’t accidentally stepped into a horror movie because some wizened person hasn’t been warned about our follies before heading out this way. But that doesn’t make it any less creepy.

The animals we’ve seen haven’t looked right either. Initially, I was saying we could probably do some hunting to supplement our food, but the animals don’t look right. We saw a deer with some super messed-up antlers, and I think we all kind of agreed that it would probably be for the best if we didn’t hunt it. There were some naked squirrels, not a single hair on them, bright pink, but still running around just fine. 

I haven't seen any birds, though I’ve heard some bird songs. But if they’re not in the trees or up in the air, they must be on the ground, right? But I haven’t seen any. 

This means we can’t hunt them. It’s been really weird. The forest still sounds like there are stuff and animals in it, but we just haven’t seen any of them, at least none that would be good eating.

I’m a little worried, if I’m being honest. We can’t really add any of it to the food, and we aren’t getting enough plants for the food. So we’re slowly running out of food, in the middle of nowhere, and being hunted by humans. And, possibly, by the weird deer? I could swear it’s the same deer I’ve seen a couple of times. Like I said, I would try hunting them, but it just hasn’t happened. Cause it all looks weird. 

Zunair says all the animals we’ve been seeing look like Chernoble (?) mutants, and he doesn’t think we should eat them on the off chance there is some kind of radiation or something that they’re all inflicted with. Willow said if that was what was going on, then we needed to leave the area as soon as possible, because if they were this affected, then it’s probably still leaching from somewhere, and we need to be careful.

Either way, there’s no signage about anything, be it dangers or towns anywhere. We have seen a few places that were obviously camps that looked untouched by whoever was there last. We’re at one now; it’s even got a little fire pit. 

The fire pit still has bones, which is a little disconcerting, but it’s proof that SOMEONE’S been here at least. There are other people around here somewhere, and we’ll hopefully run into them eventually. 

I’ll write to you soon. Hopefully, we’ll find a place to sleep that lets me write a little more to you, but I don’t know how long it’ll be until we get there. We’ll see, I guess.

Love, Jack

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Dear Dad,

So, we weren’t quite kicked out of town—we weren’t even really asked to leave—but we did still have to. 

The cultists showed up, but the townspeople welcomed them, too, which was really, really not great.

I told the others as soon as I could, even though I could see them and knew they were there and watching me and the others. 

They were all appropriated, freaked out, and went straight to the town leaders. We tried to explain, but “no business during festivals.” Even when we tried to tell them that these people were dangerous and that they were hunting us, they didn’t care; it wasn’t time for old things, like being hunted, apparently; it was now the time for new things. 

So Riley and Reese freaked out. I’ve never seen Reese yell like that either; he’s generally so quiet. He was just laying into the leader guy for not protecting people—for protecting the people doing harm. 

There was a small fight, and a couple of people tried to get them both to calm down and stop making such a scene in front of everyone, but neither did. 

I admit I even said some things I probably shouldn’t have. But it was in the heat of the moment. Zunair kicked over a table, 

Riley freaked out at them, lunging toward the cultists in the crowd. I don’t know what she was hoping to do, but she did land at least one good hit, which caused the guy to go down. But other people in the crowd quickly pulled her off of the guy and threw her back to our group. I think this is the worst way to get your point across, which was quickly confirmed by the town leaders. 

We were asked to leave. We were told that when the end of the festival came around, we’d need to do some extra work to make up for the fuss we were causing now. Even worse, they said that while the looming group of cultists were standing in the crowd, watching us, waiting for us to leave. 

We couldn’t stay. I refused to stay, but I think everyone else fully agreed. We returned to the inn, grabbed everything we could, and left. None of us wanted to stay there for even a moment longer than we had to if those people were there. 

We tried to get some help but were still waiting for someone to do so. I know Riley attacked one of the cultists, and I know Zunair flipped a table, but it wasn’t without reason. Why couldn’t they see how it was back then? How bad are those people? We just needed their help, and they couldn’t give us that much. I don’t think they ever wanted to really help us. It’s probably for the best that we just moved on.

Luckily, another small town was nearby, but it was basically the kingdom's edge. I hadn’t realized we were so close; I don’t think any of us had realized how close by it really was. 

This town isn’t having any celebrations, and we don’t have anyone to help us. Still, the bar owner agreed to let us sleep by the fire as long as we didn’t cause any problems. We’re going to be out first thing in the morning anyway, so it’s not going to be an issue. We need to just put as much distance between us and the cultists as possible. 

I don’t think any of us have really talked to anyone here. I think we’re all feeling hurt and tired. Angry. Definitely angry. Again.

We’ll be out in the wilderness again shortly on the road to wherever the next place is, hoping it’ll be safe or safer. Maybe they’ll give up at the kingdom's end, but probably not. But our opening is right there. 

I don’t know how the cultists found us so fast. I thought we had more space between us and them. Maybe we just stopped for too long. We shouldn’t have tried to wait to get help. We need to move on. Staying one night somewhere is ok, but I think staying somewhere for two or more nights is just a recipe for disaster. It must make it easier for them to find us somehow. Maybe it’s something to do with their tracking spell. It must be. Maybe it’s more accurate if we travel for a shorter distance? So if we stay in one place, is it easier to find ourselves? 

This is all just thinking. I don’t know anything about it. There’s so much to know about magic, and I know so little. How are we supposed to stop them if there’s so much to learn about and research? And I don’t even know where to start with any of this. I’m just wandering into places and hoping for the best.

The cultists are probably going to keep up with us until we figure out a way to stop them. 

I don’t know if being attacked will stop or slow them. I don’t think it will. 

I’ll write when I can. It’s been a crazy day, and we’re probably going to be in the forest here soon. Writing out there will be a lot harder, but I’ll try. 

I’ll see if any of my spells can do anything about the tracking, or maybe I can do something to eliminate them. 

It might take time, though, so we’ll just have to keep pushing ourselves really hard. I wish I knew what to do about any of this. 

Love, Jack

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