Chapter 15 - MY DAUGHTER’S FATHER
Grace began asking more about Andrew.
Not the trust.
Him.
“Did Daddy like my long hair?”
“Yes.”
“Would he like short?”
“Yes.”
“Even bald?”
I smiled.
“Yes.”
“Purple?”
“Probably.”
“Green?”
“He would complain for five minutes and then say you looked cool.”
Grace laughed.
I had accidentally let one sentence become too sacred.
Dad said he loved it.
Her braid.
I started telling broader memories.
Andrew hated raisins.
Andrew sang badly.
Andrew cried at animal movies.
Andrew once forgot our anniversary and lied so poorly I laughed.
Andrew was not the guardian spirit of one hairstyle.
He was a person.
That helped.
At nine, Grace asked:
“Did Daddy know Aunt Sabrina was mean?”
“He knew she cared too much about cameras.”
“Why did he let me go there?”
Painful.
“He thought rules he wrote would be enough. I did too.”
“So Daddy made mistake?”
“Yes.”
The dead do not need perfection.
She nodded.
“Okay.”
Andrew’s death remained exactly what medical records said.
Sudden cardiac arrest caused by inherited arrhythmogenic disease.
After his death, Adrian? No.
Different story.
No conspiracy.
No one killed him for the trust.
No hidden poisoning.
People online invented theories anyway.
“Andrew Parker died weeks after blocking family media deal.”
True but misleading.
He died eleven months before the haircut, and years after the major restructuring.
Cardiac history documented.
Genetic testing later mattered to Grace medically.
She inherited a variant associated with increased arrhythmia risk.
Not disease certainty.
A pediatric cardiologist followed her.
That became another place where family history mattered more than internet drama.
At twelve Grace asked:
“Did Dad know his heart was sick?”
“He knew it needed monitoring.”
“Was he scared?”
“Sometimes.”
“Did he hide it?”
“Sometimes.”
“Why?”
“He didn’t like making people worry.”
She frowned.
“That’s dumb.”
“Yes.”
Another adult flaw.
May you like
Healthy.
The father she remembered through hair became human again.
