Part three: The call
I have anxiety. I can't really remember a time not having anxiety. Even as a wee one. In my early teens sometimes it was so bad it caused really painful stomach cramps.
There are reasons for that anxiety but that isn't the focus of this post. Most of the time I can cope to a decent level. But the exhaustion, the whirling brain from the situation, it all was working hardcore against me.
The long-short is the day of the call, it didn't come and didn't come. At first I was all hard-ass about it.
Picture me pacing between our bedroom and living room while I was basically saying the following...
"I don't need to talk to him. It is fine." Which became...
"Maybe, he doesn't want to talk to me, that is fine." Which became...
"I wonder if I was too intense? Or maybe this is just too much?" Which became...
"Why wouldn't he want to talk to me?" Which became...
<ring>
It was Michelle. "Mags, we wondered if you got Gary's call or message."
I hadn't. He had the wrong number in his phone.
A little while later. My phone shows a voicemail. It never rang. It was him.
I called him back immediately. Didn't even listen to the message.
And as he answered I could hear him talking to Michelle and then he sang. "There she is..." (like the Miss America song). And I knew.
This is my Dad.
2 hours
Turns out he also thought maybe I didn't want to talk to him.
We were clearly both nervous, but we talked for 2 hours. So many things just aligned, crazy things that cannot be explained as coincidence. (He calls them affirmations.) He shared about his family (my family) his life and so many details of his amazing life journey.
His voice was kind, calm. His laugh made me laugh. And the sound felt so very familiar.
Like I had always known him.
I still have the voicemail he left me on Father's Day. And I listen to it sometimes.