Dad,
the phone keeps ringing and I am wondering why you aren’t answering. It goes to voice mail for the third time and as I turn into your driveway and see your car gone, a pit opens up and I feel like I am falling ... I am falling.
Inside I don’t see much—the TV is on. The lights are on. You’re gone. I dial your cell again and am horrified as I hear it ring in the house. You don’t have your phone.
Your IMRT (Intensity Modulated Radiation Therapy) appointment is in 45 minutes and the only thing I can think of doing is sitting down and calling Danielle. I don’t really know what to say to her except that you’re gone. I feel responsible for your disappearance. The second call is to your Oncologist saying you won’t be attending your radiation appointment. They’re polite.
People start searching for you. I answer the phone a lot ... No, I don’t know. He wasn’t here when I arrived. No, he took his car. I am calling the police. They refer me to the Alameda County Sheriff because you live in a section of Hayward that is unincorporated and doesn’t have a police department. The sheriff takes a report and gives me his card. He doesn't even get out of his car.
It’s a big world. Where did you go?Alex is the one who found you. Your credit card was charged $943.94 for some clothes in San Jose. You're in the parking lot of a nearby Denny’s. You’re dehydrated and keep saying it is really great that we bumped into each other in downtown Berkeley. We ask you where your car is and you shrug. You don’t know where your keys are either. We’re heading to the Emergency Room now in San Leandro to have you checked out. You’re angry and don’t trust us.
