“Well,” my dad finally says, his voice still quiet, “assuming your mom will understand and not haunt me the rest of my life, I’ll tell you what little I know. It’s not much, princess, so don’t get too excited. But it might ease your mind a little.”
The next pause is heavier.
I get the sinking feeling he isn’t going to tell me what I want to hear.
“I just need you to understand something first.”
I swallow so hard I can hear it. “Okay.”
“The world isn’t always what it seems.” He slowly exhales, choosing his next words with care. “It’s beautiful and strange and so much more than the boring shit we do every day.”
There’s something in his tone that unnerves me.
He’s not just humoring me. He knows.
And suddenly, I’m not so sure I’m ready to hear it. Still, I don’t want to shut him down either. Not if he’s really about to tell me something real.
“Dad, I understand if you don’t want to talk about this. I guess I was just scared and wanted someone to tell me everything’s okay …”
“Everythingisokay, princess. I want to share this with you. Especially if you’re scared.”
I expect him to reassure me. To say I’m just stressed. Sleep deprived. Imagining things.
Instead, he launches into a story that leaves me questioning everything.
“Your mother and her mother were very special people.” His voice is steady, but there’s weight behind it. “They were similar in many ways, but only your mother ever claimed to see things others couldn’t. And I can’t say for certain your mom spoke to your Gram after she passed. I can, however, tell you about something your mother and I experienced.”
This is not what I was expecting.
“It was the moment I realized there’s so much more to this world than what we see every day.”
His words send a chill skittering down my spine.
“As you know, your mother and I honeymooned in Iceland in the dead of winter. I was not on board with this. I wanted togo somewhere warm, sit on a beach, and ogle your mother in a bikini.” His chuckle is soft, nostalgic. “But I could never say no to Ellie.”
He pauses, and I hear the faint sound of a tissue against his nose.
Shit, I made him cry.
Thankfully, he keeps going, his voice thick with love.
“When we planned our wedding and our honeymoon, your mother had it in her head that we had to be in Iceland when the Northern Lights were on display. It was something she’d dreamed of seeing since she was a child, so we planned everything around those damn lights.”
I can practically see her—eyes lit up, hands clutched to her chest, body humming with that wild, contagious joy.
“When we arrived, we did all the touristy things, but what your mother truly looked forward to was a quiet night in the middle of nowhere, watching the beautiful aurora light up the sky.
“It took us freaking hours to get there, and by the time we arrived, I was in a shitty mood. Your mom bounced around the tent, completely ignoring me, while she impatiently waited for nightfall. When I think about it now, it was so fucking adorable it makes my heart ache.”
He lets out a breath, one that sounds like it’s traveled years to get here.
“I didn’t see it that way then. I just grumbled something about needing a nap and passed out.”
Then his voice shifts. It’s a subtle change, but it’s there.
“When I woke up hours later, your mother was gone. We were in a tent, in the middle of the Icelandic wilderness. I stumbled outside, thinking she’d just wandered off. But … there weren’t any footprints. Not a single one. Just untouched snow. In every direction. It was dark, and I was in a blind panic.”
My dad chuckles to himself. I know it’s meant to lighten the mood, but it does the complete opposite.
