Day 944

 My dad rides shotgun. I'm an anxious driver (an anxious everything, really) and he is good at calming me down and making me laugh. He's not really there, of course. He's dead. But he's so easy to conjure when I need him. I speak to him out loud and make faces towards the passenger seat and I'm sure I've worried someone who has noticed me chatting away at nothing.

I've "seen" my grandfathers for as long as I can remember. It's not like seeing a ghost. I know I'm imagining them. They would take turns in the front seat and the other would sit between the kids' car seats in the back and lean forward and make jokes while I drove or snuggle up to my babies. They were with me when I started the long drive to my parents' house 944 days ago. 

We'd been eating dinner. Mom called my husband's phone and he couldn't understand what she was saying. Something about Daddy collapsing in the garden. My husband handed me the phone. I don't remember much really other than her telling me someone was going to come get me and me saying I was just going to drive myself. I didn't want to wait; I needed to go now. 

I got in the car with my grandpas. The imaginary ones. I was driving to my parents' house, foggy on what was going on but praying my dad was okay even though later my mom would remind me that she told me he was dead when she called. It hit me like a ton of bricks about 5 minutes after I left. If he was alive, I would be meeting them at the hospital. But I wasn't. 

Then he was there in the seat next to me. Imaginary Friend: Dead Dad Edition ᵀᴹ. I kept pushing him away; struggling to bring back the grandpas instead. Yelling out loud that he better not be dead. He couldn't be dead.

The sunset over the mountains was so beautiful that evening. My body started trying to pass out. I was driving with the windows open, forcing myself to take sips of the Gatorade I had hastily grabbed on the way out the door, and taking deep breaths. I stopped telling my dad not to be dead and started begging him to get me there safely. I just needed to get there.

He's been with me ever since. Not always. He doesn't show up when I'm pooping or anything like that. I have boundaries. But when I do something ridiculous because I didn't think it through, I feel his eyes rolling in amusement. When I have to deal with cranky members of the public I see him leaning against the desk with his arms folded, shaking his head and laughing to himself. And he's there when I drive, always. Sometimes sandwiched between the grandpas.

I'm a big fan of the idea of believing in whatever keeps you going. I don't know what the afterlife looks like but I like the idea that he can just be with us; anyone who needs him, at any given moment.

I've tried to ask him questions about his death or what came next and he just shrugs and says "how should I know? I'm just a figment of your imagination." Is it weird? Yup. Is it helpful to my brain?  Yep! So if you see me giggle to myself or roll my eyes for no reason, it's probably just because Dad is whispering in my ear. That man is a joy, I tell ya.