I called Greg back and again his machine answered. "Hi, it's me. Please call me back." Click, I hung up.

The phone rang. Was it Greg? Did I hang up too soon?

"Hello." I was eager.

"Fran?"

"Yeah." I had no idea who the voice was.

"It's Jamie." My fertile sister. I hadn't heard or spoke to her since the birth of her first baby, Henry. Geez, what that poor kid will have to live up to. Not soon after announcing to the family that I was gay, I visited her in the hospital where her husband, Brad, suddenly looked at me as if he could turn me around. She on the other hand, looked at me like I was hopeless. Holding her newborn, she looked up at me, "See Fran, it's this...that you will never understand."

I left. And we hadn't spoken since.

"Hello, Fran, are you there? It's Jamie, your sister."

"Yeah...how are you?"

"I'm fine, Brad and the kids are fine."

"I hear you're pregnant again." Why I brought that up I'm not sure. It just came out of my mouth -- wanting to fill the awkward silence with something, anything.

"Fran, Dad is dead."

"Grandpa?"

"No...dad."

A long silence. "Jamie? Jamie..." I kept repeating her name unable to continue past that point.

Finally, she blurted out, "A stroke."

"Was mom with him?" That's all I could think to ask. For some reason, it was really important to me that mom was with him. If he was alone, without family-- that would be worse.

"Yes, but he died before she could get to him. Look, there are a ton of arrangements to make so I got to go, but someone will let you know when the services are."

"Where is he now?"

"In transit to the funeral parlor."

"Funeral...when did he die?"

"Yesterday."

"And you're just calling me now?"

"Fran, it's been really crazy. Let me call you back."

And that was it, she hung up. Later that night, the Funeral Director called me and gave me all the information I needed. He said the obituary would be in Tuesday's paper. I guess there was nothing for me to do.

I laid awake that night, my head buzzing. My father loved me for who I was and who I wasn't.

And now, he was gone.