“Melissa?”
“What is it this time?”
“Oh there you are. Your dads on the phone”
“Sorry? What?”
“Your dad, he’s on the phone”
“Oh right”
“Are you busy?”
“No, I have time”
“Okay well it’s line two then”

“Hello?”
“Oh Melissa is that you?”
“What do you want dad?”
“Does a dad need a reason to call his daughter?” There was silence. “OK well maybe I lied….Look I’m sorry”
“Dad, I haven’t heard from you for three months, after you just spontaneously up and left! And all you can say is ‘I’m sorry’?!”
“Melissa please…Just know I never meant to hurt you.” There was something in his voice that worried me.
“Dad…What’s wrong?” Silence. “Dad?”
“There is something I need to tell you, please just listen.” He paused. “I’ve been told I need to have an operation”
“What kind of operation?”
“They say there is something wrong with my heart. But you never know with doctors these days. There are so many stories on the news of false diagnosis’…..”
“Dad how long have you known?”
“About three months.”
“Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”
“I didn’t know how to.”
“When is the operation?”
“In two days.”
“Dad we should talk… I’m coming up tonight. Okay?”
“There is no need….”
“No I’m coming. I will be there around six.”

Aware that I still had an hour of driving to go, I settled myself into my seat in an effort to get comfortable.

“Dad!” I was shocked to see how sick he looked. “Hello darling” he said doing his best to ignore my shocked expression. “Come in and have some tea.” Tea? I thought, my dad never drinks tea and at a time like this? Yet I let this remark past without question. “Sure dad, but I will make it.” Walking into the living room, it was like I had never left, the chairs had not moved and all the picture frames where still on the mantel gathering dust. Dad made himself comfortable on one of the chairs and I walked to the kitchen. I traced the hallway I knew so well and entered the room. To my surprise the kitchen resembled my old bedroom. Everything was in it’s place, but the kitchen was nowhere to be seen. The words escaped my mouth in astonishment.
“Dad? Where’s the kettle?” I called. Retracing my steps to the lounge room to find my dad sitting in an empty bath. I rubbed my eyes in disbelief, but the image didn’t change.
“Nice weather for a bath isn’t it.” He chimed merrily.
“Yes, splendid weather.” I said surprising myself. I then preceded to walk through the rapidly growing hole in wall, finding myself in the kitchen.
“What’s taking you so long, where’s my tea?” He grumpily mumbled.
“Wont be long, I just have to find the coffee.”
The sound of a baby crying came the room I had just left. I ran back to find my dad rocking in the corner.
“It hurts! It hurts, make it stop! Please just make it stop!!” he cried, tears running down his cheeks.
“Stop that you whimpering baby!” Came grand-ma’s voice. A moment later she appeared next to me. Hobbling over to her son, she struck at him with her walking stick.
“Grand-ma really! Restrain yourself!” I jumped in front of her.
“Please don’t make me go!” Still crying my dad wraps himself around my leg.
Trying to reach out to him , but all of a sudden my leg seemed to have detached itself from my body. I was struggling to get to my dad, but it became impossible for me to reach him. Grand-ma’s stick struck my back, turning around to restrain her I realised that the crying stopped.
“DAD!” I screamed. There was no answer. He was gone.

Pulling into the driveway of my old house, I was startled by my thoughts and was suddenly struck with the awareness that this journey had only just begun.