On Death and Publication - All the Wrong Feels

My father passed away this weekend.

I couldn't say it was a surprise - it wasn't. He'd been sick for a long time, and they'd been preparing for this. Mentally, I felt ready.

I wasn't.

First response to the cascade of worried texts (he's in the hospital...no heartbeat...not breathing) felt like a sucker punch to the stomach. I just paced while looking at my phone. Then my sister set off the first wave of crying with the official word '....died...'.

We hadn't been that close, he and I, in recent years. Our relationship was thorny and complicated, to say the least. I wasn't sure why I was crying. Maybe it was because I wished that we were closer, but I had tried and failed to get closer. So that was it.

That moment passed, and then the first night of trying to sleep. Took us two hours. My siblings reported similar issues. Normal.

How is this supposed to be normal?

Today was details day - getting the rental car, planning the trip, writing the obituary (a service I was glad to be able to render for him), giving notice at work.

When I went into work, I saw another email.

It was from the magazine I'd submitted my last story to.

Mentally, I felt ready.

I wasn't.

The Australian editor that looked like Gandalf told me he'd read it, and he liked it...

He liked it?

Could I look at the edits he made and approve them so we could move forward...

He was publishing it???

My father died yesterday, and I've very happy.

This feels all wrong somehow. But, at the same time, it feels very right.

My father was the reason I'm writing science fiction in the first place. Instead of raising me on sports, he showed me all those Depression-era cliffhangers and science fiction movies I so wanted to make fun of, and he wouldn't let me. He took me to see each and every Star Wars movie; just him and me, episodes 4-6. I thought of all those passionate arguments we had about how ST:TNG was in no way comparable to the original series, all those years ago. He taught me about computers and science and how to love them both.

So now I'm writing these same stories he grew up on, and actually got one published. Pretty sure if he had lived to see it, he would have loved it.

So this one's for you, Dad. Despite everything, I'm forever your kid.