Speak to Me

Revisiting the Nightmare

Dad reached the final stage of Parkinson's not much after I broke up with Emily. After the break-up all my stuff landed at Ally's. I totally understood that she didn't want to keep anything that reminded her of me, just another person who let her down, alone, someone who abandoned her, yet another leaver. I was dying from the inside, I wanted to talk to her, I wanted to know if she was okay, I wanted to see her but I knew she was better without me.

Taking care of dad became more and more difficult. He became bedridden, and at least two people were needed when he needed to eat, drink or bathe. I got more and more worried. From time to time he forgot who he was. There was a time when he yelled at Balázs, asking him who he was and what he was doing there. When he turned worse he felt ashamed in the very beginning. He barely accepted help then. My heart sank everytime I saw the once strong man lying in bed all the time, unable to get up and unable to remember things. Sometimes even speaking was especially hard for him.

One day he seemed to be better and I already braced myself. I knew he was about to die, it was still hard to accept the fact nonetheless. He smiled at me as I checked on him on that morning.

"How are you?"

"I'm good, sweetheart."

"Ready for the routine questions?"

"If you insist."

"What's your name?"

"Mark Joseph Devlin."

"How old are you?"

"I'm... sixty-six."

"Do you have family?"

"Yeah." he rolled his eyes.

"Wife?"

"Marilyn... she died some months ago."

"Kids?"

"Two. One of them is you, Lea. And the other one is... her name is..."

"Dad?"

"Uh, her name is Lily. You're twins. Yeah, you're about to turn... twenty-seven."

"Do you have grandkids?"

"No."

"No?"

"I mean, yes." he looked at me "A grandson."

"Okay, dad. How are you today?"

"Listen, death is around the corner."

"Please don't say it, dad."

"You also know. Just... listen. The house. The family house. It's yours."

"What family house?"

"The one we left."

"Dad, you sold that house."

"We didn't." he shook his head "That's your heritage, okay? Just... When you get back I'm sure you'll have some work with it, but it's going to be fine. Everything is going to be fine." he smiled.

"Okay, rest up a little bit."

He smiled back at me. That was the last day he talked. My sister took the whole situation way worse than expected. She kept yelling with everyone. I think she always cried when no one saw her. Dad died four days after our last conversation. I felt broken. We were just about to pick up the pieces. My life was officially turned to shit.

However, he told me the truth: they didn't sell the family house and I inherited it. At least I'd have a place to go for sure when I return. My relationship with my sister didn't change: she kept thinking that the world was revolving around her. People didn't even know she had a sister and I found that deeply insulting. After the funeral I didn't even say goodbye: I just got into my car and drove straight home.