My cute daughter Priya-1

My mother passed away about 2 years ago. The cancer took her quickly but it was a very sad event and it devastated all of my very small family. She had always been the center of our lives and now she was gone.

It took many of us by surprise that she went before my dad. She died in her late 50s and my father was just topping 90. He isn’t in the best of health but he doesn’t show any signs of slowing down.

No, you didn’t read that wrong. There is a 34 year age gap between my parents. My parents married late in my dad’s life. He was in his early 50s and my mom was a freshman in college. Since my dad was a professor and I was born about 7 months after they got married, it’s pretty obvious how that happened.

I grew up an only child in a wonderful home. My parents fought. A lot. But everyone’s parents fought. They stuck through the rough patches and still seemed to love each other.

Shortly before my mother’s death, I discovered that my father had at least 2 affairs during their marriage. I was a small child and looking back, I can piece together memories of their biggest fights. I spoke to my mom about it before she got too sick and she confirmed that he had a couple “mis-steps” but that he “grew out of it.”

Following somewhat in his footsteps, I married rather late and only had one child as well. My daughter Priya was born almost 16 years ago and, tragically, her mother didn’t survive a terrible infection she contracted during her c-section. After a generous settlement over a wrongful death lawsuit, Priya and I never worried much for material things. I was a 38 year old single father about to raise a daughter on my own.

We did fairly well for the most part. Once she hit puberty, she didn’t like me as much as before. I guess that’s normal. It’s not that we didn’t get along, it’s just that she had an attitude a lot.

Fortunately, it didn’t stop her from being a good kid. She continues to get good grades and is a star athlete. She is an All-State runner, amazing striker in soccer and excels at volleyball. She has never really been one to go out with friends. She has a few good friends but for the most part is a lone soul. Anyone that meets her can’t help but to enjoy her company but she enjoys being on her own a lot.

To say that I didn’t notice my daughter physically transforming into a woman would be a lie. I remember the period talk. We stopped buying underwear by the bag and started moving on to pieces that came on individual hangers. We had open communication about the entire process of transforming from a child to a woman. I would like to think we can talk about anything and it seems as though we usually do.

Doing laundry got interesting when the occasional thong or skimpier undergarment would find their way mixed in with my clothes. I learned (the hard way) not to ask questions about boys. Her bedroom room started to be closed more frequently. All in all, she was growing up.

It was around the time that my mother passed that I noticed her body start to change more. She had developing breasts, even if they were small. Her hips started to become very noticeable and the years of running and playing sports gave her an incredibly firm and muscular butt. I knew she was going to be a heartbreaker.

After my mother’s death, my father came to live with Priya and me. It took some getting used to as my father was used to living a certain way as were Priya and I. For the most part it seemed like we were all doing pretty well adjusting and his idiosyncrasies that were most annoying died down after a few weeks time, leading me to believe it was just adjusting to missing my mother.

Priya too had to adjust. Being the only female in a how with her father was one thing, but now her (very) elderly grandfather was in her space as well. They have always gotten along and my father spoils her rotten, of course, and the scuffle over bathroom cleanliness only came up on the second day. All in all, this was working out fine.

With my father adjusting to life without my mother surprisingly quickly, like I said – just a few weeks, I had rarely seen him more at peace. I felt proud that our family was emotionally strong enough to weather the storm.

Fast forward to this past weekend.

I work in sales which means my hours vary from time to time and I travel a lot. I’m currently working on a large account that is based in Europe and that makes things even more difficult.

Last weekend, I had to go into the office on Saturday for a meeting with one of our reps that just flew back from London and debrief him on what happened. I anticipated being gone until dinner. Fortunately, everything was much simpler than I thought and we were picking up to head home by 11am. I was looking forward to a cold beer and a good documentary on my newly-freed Saturday.

I came home and parked in the driveway instead of the garage. I figured I might run to the store later and grab some more beer if we were in fact low. I couldn’t remember.

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