The afternoon after I wrote my last post, I got home from work and I went into the backyard with the dog for some routine ball time. In between throws, I scoured the ground and all the numerous patches of clover, looking for a four-leaf clover. I know that at my old house, the backyard was rife with four-leafers, but it never took away from the happiness from finding one, with the hopes that somewhere in the world, the magic of the luck of a four-leaf clover could be cashed in, in some capacity. And given the intensive dread that existed at that time concerning my family, I felt really, really hopeful that I could find just one more four-leaf clover in my new backyard.
I couldn’t. Even after nearly 45 minutes of looking for a four-leaf clover, there were none to be found in my new house. Even the dog was tired of running for the ball at that point. There simply wasn’t one that I could find.
But it’s not that it would have mattered anyways. About an hour or so later, I received a phone call from my sister, who let me know that her husband, my brother-in-law and father to my niece and nephew had passed away two hours earlier, well before I had begun my search for a four-leaf clover.
Even now, I replay the conversation in my head, and it brings tears to my eyes every time, hearing details of his last moments, and how he seemingly held on just long enough for his kids to make it to the hospital so he could say goodbye to them. It’s difficult to even type out these words and keep my composure, thinking about it.
The thing is, all this happened right on the day in which my vacation was starting. My first flight out was just hours away after getting off the phone with my sister, and I felt trapped in this unwinnable bubble that whatever I did was going to be the wrong decision. Despite the fact that my sister insisted that I go anyway and try to have the best time I could given the circumstances, I still felt like an asshole embarking on an international vacation when someone important to my family had just died. Sure, I know my sister, and I knew my brother-in-law well enough to know that they’d both have wanted me to go, but it still didn’t entirely feel right.