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Chapter One: A Time for Every Matter

Of course, on the day I’m supposed to meet my dad for a late lunch, Team Gibbs catches a case.

Up until the year that Dad had nearly been framed for murder, it had been more than a decade since the two of us had last celebrated any sort of holiday together. The past several years though, my father has been getting better at not only staying in touch with me, but occasionally setting aside time in his busy schedule to visit. Unfortunately, and much too often, Dad and I would make plans only to have something come up – usually one of his business deals and, oddly enough, only rarely my job.

Gibbs seems to be really supportive of my attempts to reconnect with my dad, and is usually there for me when those attempts fail. I’m still trying to get used to my boss and mentor being nice to me like that. To be honest, it still creeps me out a bit, though I try not to let it show anymore.

A few weeks ago, my father proposed getting together for Thanksgiving this year, but five days later he let me know that his plans had changed. Due to a business deal going down on the West Coast over the holiday weekend, he couldn’t make it for dinner. I had been pretty much expecting this to happen despite the fact that I had asked for the time off, but then Dad surprised the hell out of me by asking if we could meet for an early Thanksgiving celebration instead.

I was happy that my old man was making an effort, but I was still wary that something was going to happen. The plan was to meet for a relaxing meal this afternoon, but that doesn’t seem possible anymore. Gibbs may have been okay with me taking a half a day off yesterday when there wasn’t a Marine’s murder to be solved, but today our new case takes precedence.

It seems par for the course in our father-son relationship that my dad and I can’t ever seem to be even remotely in sync about anything. When we plan to meet, one or the other of us has to cancel for one reason or another. When he makes a surprise visit, something usually goes wrong. When I call, he can’t talk. When he calls, I usually spend the majority of our conversation trying not to be conned into investing in his latest business scheme. More often than not, the only things we speak about are surface things; rarely do we spend any time talking about anything important or try to make up for lost time.

On the whole though, our relationship is the best it’s been in decades. Even if we aren’t always discussing the important stuff, at least we’re still talking, which is a vast improvement over the years of silence between us when I was younger. If I’m very lucky, and he’s had enough Macallan 18, I can sometimes get him to reminisce about his parents or his childhood. If I’m very, very lucky, sometimes he’ll even mention something about my mom. Those nights are few and far between, but they are some of the best hours I’ve ever spent with him.

Even though he tries to hide it, I can always tell those memories are bittersweet for him, especially those about my mother. She was taken from us way too soon, and he just couldn’t cope with being on his own raising a young child. I spent many years harboring resentment towards him for dumping me into summer camps and boarding schools, for disowning me, and for practically ignoring me for the majority of my life.

However, as an adult, I can better understand why he was like that, why he couldn’t be the father I wanted and need him to be, and it has taken time, but I have finally forgiven him. Getting to know him again the last few years as an adult has been challenging but more than worth the effort.

I look at the time on my computer screen; it’s only a few minutes before I was supposed to leave to meet with my dad, but there’s no way I can go now. I’ve tried several times to reach him on his cell, even directly calling his hotel room, but he’s not answering that phone either.

He’s probably getting a massage and has turned his phone’s ringer off. A massage or he’s in the business center working – that has to be it. However, my gut seems to be disagreeing with my perfectly logical reasons for him not picking up the phone and I’m starting to feel uneasy.

I’m trying to do my part on the new case, but am having a difficult time concentrating on gathering the background information Gibbs wanted me to find on PFC Stone’s family and friends. I’m supposed to be helping to find out who killed a promising young soldier, but instead I’m worrying about why I haven’t gotten through to my dad on his cell phone. In between fits of information gathering on the case, I try to get a hold of him, but he has yet to answer any of my calls. I’ve lost track of how many messages I’ve left for him to call me back.

He’s usually wakes up pretty early every day, and more times than not he calls to make sure I’ll still be able to get away from the job, but today he hasn’t yet made contact. It’s not like him and I’m getting more than a little bit concerned.

I try once more to get a hold of him, but after the usual number of rings it goes to voice mail, which means his phone is definitely on. I let my pen slip out of my fingers and watch it drop to my desktop before rubbing my hands over my face in frustration and worry. Unfortunately, the worry doesn’t abate nor does it help me to focus.

Even though I know Gibbs will skin me alive if I don’t have anything for him when he comes back to the bullpen from Autopsy, I pick up my cell phone to trying calling my dad in case he’s not picking up because he doesn’t recognize my work number.

I’m about to hit the speed dial for dad’s number, when Gibbs suddenly appears in the bullpen and exclaims, “DiNozzo!”

Startled, my body snaps to attention and I fumble my phone as if it were a hot coal before dropping it to my desk. With a shrug and a sheepish smile, I reply, “Yeah, Boss?”

“Why are you still here?”

“Boss? Uh, why—? Why wouldn’t I be here? Don’t you remember—? I’m working on gathering intel on PFC Stone… What am I saying? Of course you remember, you told me to do it in the first place. It’s not like you’re suddenly too old…to…”

I trail off nervously and chuckle while subconsciously reaching up to rub the back of my head as if it had been slapped. Sometimes, I really wish I could keep my mouth from running away from me.

Somehow in the time I’ve taken to do that the Boss has planted himself in front of my desk. He knows I’m supposed to have lunch with my dad, but surely he doesn’t want me to leave in the middle of a case? But, from the glare he’s giving me, I guess I am supposed to leave in the middle of a case.

I quirk an eyebrow and keep my eyes locked with Gibbs’, silently asking ‘Are you sure?’

He responds by jerking his head towards the elevator while ordering, “Go.”

I can’t help the big smile that takes over my face as I say, “Thanks, Boss.”

Amongst protests from McGee and Ziva, I grab my gear in case Gibbs needs me while I’m out and dash towards the elevator. The need to get to where my dad is staying keeps growing more and more insistent.

On the drive over to the Adams Hotel, I try several more times to reach my father on the phone, but to no avail. So, by the time I arrive, I’m worried enough that I throw my keys to the valet and rush into the hotel intending on taking the stairs all the way up if there’s not an elevator to take me straight to his floor.

Fortunately, there was an elevator and I was its only passenger. As I approached his room, I saw the ‘Do Not Disturb’ sign still stuck in the card-key lock – something else that wasn’t normal for my dad. I briefly hesitate to knock, thinking that he could possibly be entertaining a woman in his room. My gut overrides that thought after a bare moment of consideration, and I pound on his door, but after a minute he doesn’t answer. I try again and again, but there’s still no answer and I’ve now gone beyond worried and am heading straight towards panic.

I knock once again before moving towards the maid working on cleaning rooms at the other end of the hall. I flash my badge and beg her to allow me access to my dad’s room explaining that I’m concerned for his well-being. She must have seen something in my face because she hurried back with me to his suite and used her all-access key. I thank her and promptly forget her as I quickly push my way through the now open door where I’m confronted by a darkened sitting room.

My dad’s room being dark at this hour causes a warning klaxon to go off in my head. It turns my worry to dread in an instant as I call out for him. Silence is my answer as I hurry towards his bedroom door. Opening the door, I start to call out his name, but my throat seizes when I’m confronted with a sight I never thought I’d see; it’s a sight that no child is ever prepared to see.

From the way he’s lying in his bed, the unnatural position, I just know he’s already gone. But, regardless of the evidence before my eyes, I grab his shoulder to try and wake him up. Despite the cold skin I felt under the sleeve of his t-shirt, I still try checking his pulse. Not caring that it was already too late, I still call his name, trying one more time to get him to answer me. The thing is that he won’t be answering me ever again.

My dad is…

My mind refuses to finish that thought.  No. It can’t be. My father can’t be… I just spoke to him last night. He was fine. We had a quick, but good conversation with no arguments for a change. We were meeting for lunch today. There’s no way he’s… It’s not possible he’s…  No!

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“For everything there is a season, and a time for every matter under heaven.” ~~ Ecclesiastes 3:1(ESV)

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To be continued.

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Chapter Text

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Chapter Two: A Time to Break Down and a Time to Lose

Unsteadily, I back up a few steps before realizing that I’m shaking. For a few moments my brain is incapable of all rational thought, but somehow I manage to pull my cell phone out of my pocket and call for help.

After a couple of rings, I hear, “Yeah, Gibbs.”

Upon hearing Gibbs’ voice, my eyes drift back towards the bed, and suddenly I can’t speak. I’m momentarily confused. Hadn’t I dialed 9-1-1?

“….zo! Answer me!”

The command snaps me back to the present, but in a voice that sounds nothing like my own, I’m only able to brokenly whisper, “Boss…”

“Tony? You alright?” The concern in his voice is obvious, and if I was thinking coherently, I would probably be right in guessing that he’s already in his car on his way here.

“My dad…” I still can’t say it. Taking a deep breath, I try another tack hoping he’ll get my drift. “I need—.” My voice cracks, making me clear my throat before I make another attempt. “I need Ducky here, Boss.”

From the momentary silence, I’m positive he knows what I’m not saying to him. “I’ll be there in five.” For a second, I thought he had hung up on me, but instead he continues, “I need to call Ducky, but I’ll call you right back, okay?”

I nod, but then remember he can’t see me, so I shakily reply with a quiet, “’Kay.”

Once Gibbs hangs up, I suddenly can’t be in that bedroom anymore, and I force myself to move out into the sitting room of the suite. Standing in the middle of the room, I feel numb and out of touch with my body and mind.

It seems impossible that this has happened, and yet the evidence is just in the next room.

O God, I wish Gibbs was here.

My prayer is partially answered when my phone rings. I answer, but before I can even think to say anything, Gibbs is already speaking.

“Tony, I’m almost there. I’m downstairs heading towards the elevator.” I can’t help but think he must’ve broken every traffic law in the book to get here so quickly, but then again I honestly have no idea how much time has passed since I last spoke to Gibbs.

“Two more floors, and then I’m there. Come out into the hall and meet me,” Gibbs orders.

There’s still that strange disconnect between my mind and body, yet somehow I’m still able to do as he has ordered. By the time I’m in the hallway, he’s just coming around the corner. When he sees me, he hangs up his phone and jogs the rest of the way towards me. As soon as we’re face-to-face, he grips my shoulders, squeezing once before reaching up to take the cell phone that I didn’t know I still had in my hand away from my ear.

“Ducky and the others will be here as soon as they can,” he says as he hangs up my phone and pockets it. “Vance has reassigned our case and—.”

I shake my head and try to protest the decision that’s been made without my input. “Boss, I can… You don’t…”

“Yes, I do.” He grabs the back of my neck and gently squeezes it before amending, “Yes, we do.” His pulls me in and gives me a tight hug. “You do what you have to for family.” Releasing me, he pulls back enough to stare intently before he continues, “It’s more than just a rule. You understand?”

Though I can barely comprehend anything right now, I’m still able to understand that one simple truth.

Time inexplicably kept passing, and before I could barely begin to wonder how much longer Ducky would be, he and the rest of Team Gibbs arrived at my dad’s suite.

Ducky placed a hand on my left shoulder, and squeezing it, said, “My dear Anthony, I’m so sorry for your loss.” He looks behind him, and says, “Come along, Mr. Palmer, we have an old friend to attend to.” As Jimmy pushes the gurney into the hotel room, he shoots me a look that clearly expresses what he’s thinking and feeling at this moment. Briefly, I wonder if my face is just as easy to read right now.

Finally, Ziva and McGee hesitantly approach, and they fumble over each other as they try to express their condolences. Gibbs stops a potential disaster in the making by getting their attention and nodding his head towards my father’s room. As they enter, Ziva gives me a quick hug as McGee pats me on the shoulder. Instead of going in with the rest of the team to do what they must and investigate, Boss stays out in the hall with me and guides me down it a short distance. For some reason, I hadn’t expected him to stick around with me, but I guess I should’ve known that he’d be there to watch my six no matter what.

Regardless of the fact that it’s standard procedure, it still feels like an invasion of privacy. In just the other room, my father is exposed in a way that he never would have allowed in life. His son’s friends, people he doesn’t know that well, are seeing him in a way that would’ve made him embarrassed or perhaps even angry. Yet there’s nothing either of us can do about it.

Ducky comes back out of the room in what seems to be barely a minute later, though I know my sense of time must still be out of whack and it had likely been much longer. He looks at me briefly and a flicker of doubt comes over his face before he turns to Gibbs. The two of them exchange a long look before Gibbs tilts his head a little and nods once.

The normally jovial M.E.’s expression morphs into one I’ve seen too many times before; it’s time for the doctor’s preliminary report.

“Anthony, I feel wretched that you had to find your father this way. My preliminary findings suggest that there was no foul play and that Mr. DiNozzo, Senior likely had some sort of cardiac event – perhaps a heart attack on his way back to bed. Lividity and liver temp suggest time of death to be in the early hours of the morning, around three or four o’clock. I’ll know more once I get him back to NCIS.” Summation complete, his expression becomes sympathetic, almost pained. “Mr. Palmer and I will be bringing your father out soon. Is there anything I can do for you?”

My throat tightens again, which only leaves me able to shake my head in the negative. I take a deep breath and try to speak anyway, but fail until I can clear my throat a couple of times. Gesturing towards the door of the suite, I finally get some of what I’m thinking out of my head. “Ducky, there’s no one I’d rather… Thanks.”

“It’s my honor, dear boy,” he replies, before re-entering the suite.

Having been to too many crime scenes over the course of my career, I can visualize exactly what’s going on in the other room. God knows I don’t want to picture it, but I can’t help it. Just like I can’t help but visualize how dad looked when I found him or the feel of his cold skin as I checked for a pulse. I can’t help but remember every detail, no matter how much I don’t want to, no matter how much I don’t want this nightmare to be real.

Overwhelmed, I sag against the wall of the hotel corridor and drop my head into my hands, lifting my head again only when Ziva and McGee come out of the room. Gibbs steps from my side and crosses the hall to speak to them. Despite the fact that the conversation is likely about me and my dad, I don’t bother to try and listen to what’s being said. 

The next thing I know, my teammates are gone, and Gibbs is back standing beside me as the door to the suite opens. From past experience, I know that Jimmy is keeping the foot of the gurney going straight as Ducky is guiding it through the door. But, right at this moment, my every sense is focused on the black body bag atop the gurney. Nothing else seems to exist and all I can think is that my dad would’ve hated the cheap material in which he was enshrouded.

Time seems to blur for a while. It’s as if I’m moving in slow-motion while the world around me goes by on fast-forward. Only seconds ago, Jimmy had just started escorting the gurney away down the hall and now both he and Ducky are gone. I don’t have a clue what to do next.

A hand grabs my right biceps, startling me. It’s Gibbs. Somehow I had forgotten he was even there. I look at him, wondering what he wants. He nods towards the hallway and says, “It’s time to go, Tony.”

“But—,” I begin then stop when my gaze shifts to the door of my father’s hotel suite. Suddenly, all I can see is the scene in my dad’s bedroom, his body cold and still upon the bed.

I feel gentle slap to the back of my head and I’m brought back to the present. Gibbs is tugging my arm again, prodding me to walk down the hall. I resist for a moment, not able to make myself leave. With the closed door in front of me, I can pretend that I’m just arriving to have lunch with my father. I can pretend that he is still alive, waiting impatiently for me and wanting to get me involved in his latest business deal.

If I leave, then it becomes real again. If I leave, then he is really and truly gone, and I will have no more chances to reconnect and get to know my father. If I leave, then the fact that I am an orphan becomes impossible to escape.

“DiNozzo,” Gibbs gently says, disrupting my thoughts. His hand moves up from my biceps to my shoulder. “Rule 11.”

When the job is done, walk away.

It’s a crude, possibly callous way to put it, but it finally does the job. I somehow manage to put one foot in front of the other and start walking down the hall with Gibbs by my side.

It’s real, and I can’t pretend anymore.

My dad is…dead.

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For everything there is a season, and a time for every matter under heaven: a time to be born, and a time to die;… a time to break down,… a time to lose.” ~~ Ecclesiastes 3:1-2, 3, 6 (ESV)

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To be continued.

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Chapter Text

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Chapter Three: A Time to Weep and a Time to Mourn  

I stepped into an elevator at the hotel and the next thing I know I’m walking through the front door of Gibbs’ house. Apparently, time is still not working right and continues to sneak past without me noticing.

Now that I’m aware of where I am, I go into the living room and sit down on the couch without prompting or bothering to take my overcoat off. I just sit there in a daze and I’m not really paying attention to anything going on around me. My mind constantly and involuntarily keeps going back to the hotel suite.

Throughout my career in law enforcement, I’ve seen plenty of dead bodies – too many, in fact. They mostly have all blurred together and long ago ceased to bother me, but finding my dad like that… I don’t think I’ll ever be able to forget. The image has been burned into my mind like a brand on livestock; it will be a long time before the newly burnt skin becomes just another scar on my psyche. I already have too many of those scars, ones that will never fade away, like the last time I ever saw my mother or Kate being killed.

A weight settles down near me on the couch and a glass of water is shoved in front of my face.

“Drink,” Gibbs orders.

Because following Boss’s orders is second nature to me by now, I don’t even consider protesting. Once I start drinking though, it’s as if I’d been dying of thirst all this time and didn’t even know it; the water is gone in seconds.

Gibbs takes the glass from me and sets it down on his coffee table alongside the mug of coffee I hadn’t yet noticed but should’ve expected.

“Starting tomorrow, you’re on bereavement leave, but I told Vance you might need to take some sick time as well.”

There’s nothing really to say about that, so I keep silent, staring out into the room before me.

“Ducky should have the results of the…of his examination by morning. Do you know your father’s wishes?”

I shake my head, feeling the guilt rise within me. “No, I don’t. He never mentioned it and I never even thought to ask!”

I lean further back into the couch and let my head fall backward to an uncomfortable angle. Silence reins for a time while Gibbs goes to retrieve another cup of coffee before returning to his seat next to me on the couch. I sigh heavily, hating the fact that his functional mute act is working to prompt me to speak against my will.

“When my mother died, my father didn’t know how to handle it or me. I was just an eight-year old grieving for a mom that, while she may not have been perfect, she was still mine and I loved her with all my heart. I thought he had loved her the same way.”

Sitting up and turning slightly towards my friend, I can feel the agitation build. “But, barely three months later, dad brought home this woman and told me she was going to be my new stepmom. You can imagine how I reacted to that news,” I continue while rolling my eyes. “Senior’s solution was to send me away to boarding schools and summer camps. He did everything he could just to keep me busy and out of the way while he carried on acting as if he had never loved my mother. Meanwhile, half the time I had no idea where he was and rarely spoke to him.

“Stepmom number one was only around for a couple of years; I didn’t really like her and she made it plain that she didn’t like me. Her leaving was a win-win situation for the both of us.” I lean sideways back into the couch. “The bonus was that I got my dad back all to myself for a short while. He would try to be the kind of dad any kid would want, but in the end he would always fall back to pattern and I would be shunted away.

“Stepmom number two came only a few short months later, and I have no idea how many I’ve had primarily because Senior doesn’t like to ‘advertise his failures.’ Whatever,” I say, my tone sounding dismissive to my ears.

I shrug and rub my eyes with the palms of my hands. “Anyway, I was a teenager when I finally figured it out. My stepmoms were all rich divorcées or widows and he was only going after them for their money. He didn’t disown me because of anything I had done, but because he’d either lost or spent all his own money and any money that I’d inherited that he could easily and legally touch. He thought that if he disowned me that I wouldn’t find out.” A laugh involuntarily erupts from me. With a smirk on my face, I declare, “My first embezzlement case.” Gibbs smiles at that and pats my knee a couple of times. “He’s probably still living under the delusion that I don’t know the truth.”

Realizing what I just said, I feel my control start to slip. I turn from my sideways position and lean fully back on the couch to avoid looking directly at Gibbs.

“The point is that I have known who my father was for a very long time, and it took a while, but I finally was able to accept that he would never change. He could be exasperating, but I was just happy to have contact with him again, even if it was intermittently.”

My throat begins to tighten up and it’s taking more effort to keep control over my emotions.

“Not too long ago, I for-forgave him,” I have to stop and swallow a couple of times to get my throat working. “I forgave him for everyth—everything, but I never t-told him.”

My control is all but gone and my eyes are burning with tears. Speaking is difficult and the words are sticking in my throat.

“Number ten on my bucket list was to te-tell my dad that it was okay, and now,” I pause and wipe at my eyes though I know Gibbs can see the tears start to flow down my face. “Now I won’t ever be able to do that. I’ll ne-never have the chance to have that relationship with hi-him that I’ve always wanted. He’ll never kn-know…”

I lean forward and hide my face behind my hands, curling my body into a protective ball. Tears slide down my cheeks like a torrential rain as I mourn the loss of a man I barely knew but loved anyway despite everything.

Feeling a hand begin to rub up and down my back as I sob my heart out, Gibbs quietly says, “He knew, Tony. He knew.”

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“For everything there is a season, and a time for every matter under heaven: a time to be born, and a time to die;… a time to break down,… a time to weep,… a time to mourn,… a time to lose.” ~~ Ecclesiastes 3:1-4, 6 (ESV)

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To be continued.

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Chapter Text

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Chapter Four: A Time to Keep Silence and a Time for Peace

Eventually my tears dried up, and though thoroughly embarrassed by my display of emotion in front of Gibbs, my mentor never said one word about it. He had stayed by my side the entire time, hand on my back, silently supporting and comforting me. I had never been more thankful for having him in my life than during that time – until several hours later.

Gibbs suggested I eat something, and I had initially refused, but in the end, his continued glaring convinced me to change my mind. He ordered Chinese and I tried to eat more than I did, but only managed to finish my egg drop soup. I thought he would be disappointed that I wasn’t able to manage much of the food he’d ordered, but when he stood up from the table, he surprised me. He picked up his plate then started to bend to grab mine. I locked eyes with him, feeling sheepish, but instead of condemnation, there was understanding in his eyes. He reached around and briefly laid his hand on the back of my head before chucking me under the chin. Smiling slightly, Gibbs then took both our plates into the kitchen.

After the clean-up was finished, we retired to the couch and watched re-runs of several science-fiction shows. Normally, I would provide a running commentary about what was happening on screen, but on this night I was silent. It was kind of a surreal experience to just sit and watch TV with Gibbs, especially since I know he despises the genre, but it helped pass the time and keep my mind off everything.

I had been beyond exhausted for hours, but had refused to give in and go to sleep until Gibbs bodily forced me up off the couch and up the stairs. He gently pushed me into the guest bathroom and continued on towards his bedroom. Inside, I found a pair of sweatpants lying on top of my go-bag. Once I was dressed comfortably and ready for bed, I left the bathroom and headed to the guest bedroom I usually slept in when I stayed with Gibbs.

When I open the door and turn on the light, I suddenly flash back to the scene I had come across in that hotel suite earlier in the day. The room before me is completely different and yet all I see is my father’s body upon the bed. He looks just as he did when I found him and I know he’s not really there but it’s all I can think about. I’m paralyzed, unable to make myself move into the room. I can’t even close my eyes to block out the sight since I know the same image is waiting for me there as well.

All of a sudden, the lights in the guest room go out, and an arm snakes across my chest to grab a shoulder, turning me away from the bedroom. Then, without saying anything and with a hand on my elbow to guide my steps, Gibbs and I head back downstairs. He parks me on the couch and heads back upstairs. When he comes down, he has several pillows and blankets in his hands. Pushing a couple of pillows and a blanket into my hands, it takes me a minute, but I eventually figure out that Gibbs is suggesting that I sleep on the sofa tonight. I think it will be a while before I can sleep in a bed again without seeing…without that image taking over. 

By the time I get comfortable, lying with my feet towards the front door to protect against surprise visitors, Gibbs is back in the room with a cup of coffee. Setting it down on the side table, he then starts to arrange the other pillow before sitting in the arm chair. As I watch, he then moves the coffee table a little closer and props his feet up on it before covering himself with the other blanket he’d brought down.

I’m about to say something, about to protest that he doesn’t need to stay with me, but when I open my mouth to do so, Gibbs gives me this look. It’s not quite a glare and is full of too many emotions to identify, but it does the job and my mouth closes with a click of my teeth.

Finding it difficult to let go and get some sleep, I watch Gibbs drink his coffee while reading the book he’d picked up off the side table. I’ve watched him drink coffee hundreds, thousands of times over the years and find the action oddly comforting in its way.

Tomorrow I will have to deal with funeral and burial arrangements. Tomorrow, I will have to begin dealing with my dad’s estate – however much of it that’s left. Tomorrow, I will have to inform his friends and the rest of the family of his passing. Tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow.

But tonight…

Tonight, Gibbs is watching my six like he’s done so many times before both on and off the job. Tonight, Gibbs has grounded me and kept me from completely falling apart. Tonight, Gibbs has acted like he's part of my family, just like I’ve considered him to be for a while now.

Without him, I don’t think I could’ve made it through today. Without him, I don’t think I will be able to make it through the coming days.

I may be an orphan now, but with Gibbs in my life I’m not alone in the world. Gibbs and I never talk about such things, but I have a feeling he knows anyway.

A wave of overwhelming emotion erupts within me, and with tears in my eyes, I realize that Gibbs had been right earlier.

He did know.

Without me telling him, my dad knew that it was okay and that I loved him.

I close my eyes, feeling an errant tear slide down my face and a fragile sort of peace settle over me. Moments later, exhaustion finally wins, sleep rushes in, and I’m carried away for the night.

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“For everything there is a season, and a time for every matter under heaven: a time to be born, and a time to die;… a time to break down,… a time to weep,… a time to mourn,… a time to lose;… a time to keep silence,… and a time for peace.” ~~ Ecclesiastes 3:1-4, 6-8 (ESV)

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The end.

~~ I miss you, Mom and Dad. ~~

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