Almost two months had passed since that rainy night when I felt, with painful clarity, that my presence at my daughter’s house was superfluous. In the meantime, she had called me only twice. The first time, to check on her. The second time, to ask if I still had my old drill in the garage. I responded kindly on both occasions. I didn’t scold her, I didn’t tell her I missed it, nor did I ask when she planned to invite me over. I simply stopped clinging to a life that no longer concerned me.
The meeting that changed everything
: One Wednesday morning, I was sitting in the park when a man of about my age sat down on the bench next to me. His name was Mircea, he was sixty-seven, and had been a music teacher. He went to the park almost every day with a chessboard under his arm.
“Do you play?” He asked me.
