My father lost my mother twelve years ago. I was old enough to understand what death meant, but I was too young to understand how deeply it could change the person left behind.
Before Mom died, my father filled every room with energy. He sang while making coffee, told terrible jokes at dinner, and always had music playing somewhere in the house. After the funeral, everything changed. The house became quiet, and my father seemed to lose a part of himself.
For years, he refused to date. Whenever relatives suggested meeting someone new, he politely declined. Once, I told him Mom would never have wanted him to spend the rest of his life alone.
He looked at me and smiled sadly.
“I am not alone,” he said. “I have you.”
His words stayed with me.
Then, almost unexpectedly, my father decided to try dating again.
I discovered his dating profile during a Saturday visit. He was sitting at the kitchen table, smiling at his phone. When he realized I had noticed, he became embarrassed.
“I made a profile,” he admitted.
I hugged him.
“I think Mom would be happy that you are trying to live again.”
For the first time in years, he seemed hopeful.
He met several women. One worked at a library. Another owned a small bakery. Another volunteered with animals. My father spoke warmly about each of them, and after every date, he seemed happier.
But something strange began happening.
Every date appeared to go well. The women laughed, enjoyed themselves, and sometimes even made plans to meet him again.
Then, by the following morning, they would disappear.
At first, I thought it was ordinary dating. People change their minds. Sometimes two people enjoy an evening together but realize they are not compatible.
But it kept happening.
The second woman disappeared.
Then the third.
Then the fourth.
By the time the sixth woman stopped responding, my father had begun questioning himself.
“Maybe I talk about your mother too much,” he said one evening.
“You barely mention her.”
“Maybe I am too old-fashioned.”
I smiled.
“You held a door open for someone. That is hardly a problem.”
He laughed, but I could tell he was discouraged.
I could not ignore the pattern anymore.
Six women had enjoyed dinner with him, expressed interest in seeing him again, and then disappeared almost immediately. I wanted to know why.
So I called my best friend, Rachel.
I asked her to go on a date with my father.
She laughed at first.
“You want me to investigate your father?”
“I want to understand what is happening.”
She thought it was a terrible idea, but eventually agreed.
