Silent tears streamed down my face, soaking into my shirt.The words spoken at the lectern washed over me — meant to comfort, but instead making me feel cheated.Cheated by time.By fate.By everything we never said.
My throat felt raw, like swallowing sandpaper.When the curtains finally closed — slow, final, merciless — it felt like the end of a stage show with no applause, no encore, no second chances.
Outside, in the small garden of remembrance, people gathered in awkward clusters.The undertaker placed my flowers beneath a marker bearing Dad’s name.My face felt hot and tight as more tears threatened.
I bent down and plucked a white rose from the spray.The thorn pricked my skin — a tiny sting compared to the pain in my chest.
It was over.Done.Never to be again.
Yet I wasn’t ready to let him go.
Ilooked down at mychecklist.Utilities: done.Bills transferred.Banks, internet, phone companies: still to go.Then there were Dad’s social media accounts, online shopping profiles, subscriptions...all the digital footprints that proved he’d existed.
Deleting them felt like erasing him piece by piece.
Suppressing a groan, I fired up Dad’s ancient desktop computer — the one still running Windows XP.The machine wheezed to life like it was offended by the request.The cursor blinked at me, mocking me with its slowness.
Fine.If it wasn’t going to cooperate, I’d free up some memory.First step: delete cookies and internet history.
I clicked the tab.
And froze.
Oh.My.God.
For a second, I genuinely thought I was hallucinating.But no, the list didn’t change when I blinked.
Gay porn.Specifically: older men with younger men.
I stared at the screen, horrified and fascinated in equal measure.
Scrolling back through weeks, months, years — the same sites appeared over and over.Dad had been visiting them regularly.Consistently.
My brain stalled like the computer.I wasn’t disgusted.Just...stunned.
And then, because apparently, I’d lost control of my own limbs, my hand clicked one of the links.
Bodies.Movement.Heat.Intensity.
I couldn’t look away.
My heart pounded.My jeans tightened.And suddenly I was questioning everything I thought I knew about myself.
Was I gay?Bi?Curious?Lonely?
Turned on because it was new?
Turned on because it wasmen?
I didn’t know.
And Dad — what did this mean for him?Was he gay?Bi?Confused?Exploring?Or just...human?
I didn’t have answers.And I didn’t have the right to judge.
All I knew was that I was rock hard, confused, and spiralling.
It didn’tproveanything.Not about Dad.Not about me.
