I think my father did.
There was a message left for us to call and a number. As the eldest I was elected to make the call. I was 33. So it was 17 years after he left us, and 13 years since the last brief encounter we'd had.
He gave me the news he had wanted us to hear and then we just sort of chatted. He knew I had recently had a baby so evidently he had been doing long distance tab keeping. Via the Internet I suppose. Said baby wanted to feed and got vocal about it, so I said I had to go. There was something sort of painfully hopeful in his voice, like he was waiting to see if I would ask if I could ring him again. Whereas I was hoping he would ask for my number.
But he didn't. And I couldn't be the one to do all the running. Not again.
It's only recently I have had more context to wrap around the sense I got from that call and come to tentatively believe there may have been some regret.
We were sent a link to an obit for him this February. It said he died in Nov. When I called the person who wrote it she was really shocked to discover he had children. She went really quiet and it was almost like she was talking to herself, something about "...ahh..... he always did have this air of sadness about him".
Part of me perceives that as evidence of regret.
Part of me thinks I am making things up out of thin air because I want to believe it's true. Part of thinks it doesn't matter either way. Because it's too late if he is dead. Part of me is furious in case it is true and he just sat with his sad bag of regret, sighing deeply and feeling sorry for himself instead of doing something with it. Becuase it's not like we haven't left crumbs all over the net for him should he want to find us.
There was a time when I would have taken pleasure from knowing he had regrets. And thought, good, hopes it hurts at least as badly as we hurt when you walked away from us. I thought I wanted validation. But I think what I really want is more time. And him.
I wish you well love. The first part, as I recall it, is so intensely painful. Like a kind of bewildered bereavement. I hope he has the heart and moral fibre not to let his little boys down as badly as he has let you down.