A distant death

A distorted message, a "we need to speak" - I'm old enough to feel the clench of apprehension as I dial my Aunt's number. Her very first words are "it's not your Nan", obviously she'd know that's the chill on my neck- I breathe out, my shoulders drop, a respite for now from the inevitable. But "its not" has a yang to its yin - and my relief is suddenly gone - we're not that close, there are few people for whom she'd be the one to call me, so any other option is also awful - my cousin? The grandchildren?

"I'm sorry to tell you your father is dead" - the anticlimax is tangible, I can stifle a relieved laugh out of respect for any death - but this just doesn't impact, the words quite literally make no sense, I can't connect them. I've never had a father - I've always been fierce about my use of stepfather,  I adored my grandfather - but father is so alien, so far removed I can't find a reckoning in it - words I know should carry an immeasurable weight have no impact, they have no emotional connection, no meaning for me. My Aunt knows this, but knows also that it falls to her to tell me. For all of this man's faults, and there were many, he was her brother, my Nan's son and I can respect their loss. Whilst sadly he chose to live a life that few will mourn, I feel I should at least record his passing - this genetic ghost from the past.

There are many blessings along the path to old age, the loss of one's memory is seldom one - but in this at least my Nan and I, for vastly different reasons, are united - I spoke with her at length today, I know she's been told many times, but thankfully our conversation was bounded in its usual parameters - the dog, my life in France (she won't be told...) the fact it hasn't rained in Norfolk this century....the trivia of life seems wonderful right now, as whilst I know I'll probably not think of my namesake again I'd hate for this lovely little old lady to be all alone with that ghost tonight.