Dad

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gkmoberg1
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Dad

Post by gkmoberg1 » Mon Jul 10, 2017 3:06 am

I should have known from the point dad mentioned the new company had an office in Stockholm that I'd be about to lose him.

Dad got a job that fall with an appendage of a yet larger bio-gen company. A "world-wide conglomerate," he told me. I got the full dossier, in all his monotonous mind-numbing detail. It was a conservative move. There'd be challenges for him, sure, but nothing too arduous. The position would bring in a reliable income. I think that's what he was looking for above all else.

He went on, per usual, about synthetic constructions. I admit I didn't take it all in. In my life, filled with friends and my own apartment far from home, sometimes details were left fuzzy. When it came to his talk of DNA splicing and cell-nucleus reconstructions, it was far over my head. And so I, here, made that easy mistake of letting the distance take a toll on my learning the full story. Yet when he told me over Skype about how they had an office in Stockholm, there was that happy twinkle of mischief that I always loved. I was in that moment simply happy for him.

It wasn't more than six months into that new job when he posted me that he was getting his first chance to visit their Swedish office. He brought it up again when we talked soon thereafter but let it drop. I had meant to ask about the details of the timing. But we always rambled in the moments where we found time to catch up. Somehow each time we ended up ringing off without my head getting better organized. And so off he went, on a date in April that I was not entirely sure of and to a destination I had no idea about.

The company called the last day of the month asking if I had heard from dad. "No," I said followed by an alarmed "why?" The response did nothing to calm me. Worse, I had the same call twice, first from the Swedish office and then from the local one. Both calls were the same: we've not heard from him, have you?

I begged off time from work. Putting together some money was a stretch but, better, on a dare I called his company and upon direct request was granted that they would fly me to Stockholm and put me up at a hotel near their offices. I packed and left. I don't think I slept once between those calls and my arrival in Stockholm. I couldn't; it wasn't possible.

I made a list and went hunting. No, the Stockholm office had neither ever met him nor heard from him. I continued. No, the police had no record of dad. No, the consulate had no records about him. No, the hospitals had no unknowns present. The list was getting shorter. No, the morgues had no unnamed but possibly matching possessions (relief at least on that). No, the hospices I visited had not seen such a person as my dad.

There was kindness from everyone but no solace for me.

I turned to his accounts. With help from the rest of my family we painfully wormed our way into all his online registrations. For every single one, all activity had stopped mid-April. Even for the book forum that he held so dear - silence. Seemingly dead-ends but my cards were not exhausted.

I knew the reason for that twinkle several months back; I'm no fool. I took the train out to Blackeberg. I got to see the zig-zag ramp in the town center. I walked out to Ibsengatan, stopping by the school. I saw where the pool house had been. At the apartment buildings on Ibsengatan, I walked in through the little arch to the interior and looked about. I was no more likely to find dad here than I would be to find Oskar or Eli. I could have knocked at the addresses but that would have painfully awkward and all but insane.

Walking down Björnsnsgatan to Arvid Mörnes vag I briefly contemplated Elias' anguished dash where he burst into the market and made off with the T-Röd. Yet no sign of any such character. There was just the coolness of an overcast early May afternoon.

I continued further, along to the overpass and then circled down into the pedestrian passageway beneath. I'd have liked to have found him here, perhaps hiding in the leaves. But no. Coming out I waved up at where I figured Gösta would have lived. I wondered how many had done the same tour.

In the end, I was back at the town center with nothing learned. But I knew he had to have come here. It was impossible for him not to have taken the same train out and to have walked the approximately same loop. I had to think.

Days ticked by. I exhausted every list I made. Several times I visited each site I could find mentioned in the novel. I was not sure what to look for at each location but kept my eyes and mind open. I took notes. Would there be a sign? A clue? What might it be if he were to have left something? Was I actually to look for him or for something else?

I considered the movie as well as the short follow-on story. Dad and I both considered the movie to be a magnificent reduction of the original story. However dad's thoughts on the follow-on story were that it was best treated as a fan-fiction written by the novel's author. Perhaps it was my putting a bounds on what I knew were my limits - both financially and emotionally - but I drew a line around considering the novel's content alone. Thus ruling out additional cities such as Luleå and Barcelona, I continued solely on the trail I was already on.

I was destroyed.

Six months later there remained no news. I was long back home with life continuing its normal courses. I checked daily with contacts I had made but there was simply nothing turning up.

I read the novel for the umpteenth time. It was delusional but I had come to figure there was some clue hidden within. Perhaps there was a pattern that could be found. There must be something, something that led to a discovery of a path, something that lead to an adventure. I pondered the meaning of what the author had included and the order of the story's progression. What might it be that dad had found?

Throughout I had an absolute certainty that dad had not gone to Stockholm to jump in the archipelago. No, he was very much alive and knew what he had done. I also knew he was not at all a night-owl. He was a bit odd, oh yeh, but he was cautious. The police had suggested he might have come to a bad end but had no evidence of such. All they had were conjectures. To me, there was still the undiscovered path. Dad had found something and set sail straight into it.

A year later my thoughts were calmer. There was no point in reading the book. It was on a shelf or perhaps on a counter or perhaps in the car; I had lost track. There had been months of pain. And anger. Fear. Crying. But I was not giving up. I thought about flying back, but I knew I needed a better plan than otherwise spending out my funds while wandering the same streets. I turned to my notes, reflected on the patterns of the book, and tried for the ten-thousandth time to make connections that I'd worked through before.

There were so many dreams and daydreams I had experienced where a clue arrived. A package, usually a small brown box, would be at my door. Opening it, I would find - sometimes a page torn from the book or a key or a hand-written note. Or I had dreams and wishes that I'd get a call from him - right out of the blue - and it would be over.

I was in a grocery store when the revelation arrived.

It has always annoyed me to find an abandoned half-filled grocery cart in the midst of a busy store. Who does such a thing? Is the shopper merely an aisle or two away picking something up? Or did they realize they'd left their money at home and dashed off to get it? Had a sudden call on their mobile distracted them? Well, on that day I contributed to my own pet peeve.

No airplane moves fast enough when you're in a hurry. I still had no answer but the riddle was solved. See, the book itself is the clue. I had spent my time scrounging through the pages and lines looking for answers. But it was the big picture that was needed. I couldn't find it before because I was too close to the story. I had spent too much time watching the film, following the dialog, watching the faces and backgrounds. And of course too many days and nights reading the chapters, sometimes backwards sentence-by-sentence or looking between the lines for clues that were not there.

Okay, what I'm about to tell you doesn't make sense. But it does. Of course Oskar and Eli don't exist. I know that. You do too. It's fiction. But put that aside for a moment, please. Understand, the book is a lesson book and then an arrow that will take me to them. Where? Karlstad, of course. The book points straight to it. Where within Karlstad? I have no idea. So, how then would I find them? The book tells you that. I'll let you tell me - think for a minute. Dad figured it out. And what would it mean to find them? What would you or I do with them? Interesting question, but what would dad do with them? This, I realized in a flash. Okay, next, where would he be with them, these two impossible creatures that do not exist? There are only a few places where it would make sense for them to be. And he'd have the connections and the know-how of what to do. Otherwise, and as I write this it all makes more and more sense to me, there'd be no reason for all this.

It had been eighteen months since dad had disappeared. I got off the train at Karlstad and walked across the city not knowing what I was going to say first, second or third. I had half a mind to beat him to death for all this. And half a mind to hold onto him like there was no tomorrow. And if I was wrong, well, I wasn't going to ponder that. Underneath, though I knew what he was trying to do was what the book was asking for. The book, a plea for help, had been answered. By how many over time, I had no idea. Whether dad would be the first or last, I'd soon find out. Maybe.

There are moments in life where I've hesitated. And times where I've walked away from something and then tormented myself for years over my failure. This time though, I vowed I'd be strong. Sometimes you know it's going to hurt, a lot, but you're going to do it. I did it. I walked straight into the municipal hospital, went straight to the desk and asked for him.

I won.

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PeteMork
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Re: Dad

Post by PeteMork » Mon Jul 10, 2017 5:31 am

What an intriguing little tale! Now all I have to do is double check to see if my 'conclusion' matches your 'evidence.' :geek: :ugeek:

But first: Does your 'evidence' include the sequel? (I think not. :think: ) Or just the original book?
We never stop reading, although every book comes to an end, just as we never stop living, although death is certain. (Roberto Bolaño)

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gkmoberg1
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Re: Dad

Post by gkmoberg1 » Mon Jul 10, 2017 11:48 am

Ah! I had a mental note on this topic but neglected to develop it. Let me add a small bit and insert it above.

  • I considered the movie as well as the short follow-on story. Dad and I both considered the movie to be a magnificent reduction of the original story. However dad's thoughts on the follow-on story were that it was best treated as a fan-fiction written by the novel's author. Perhaps it was my putting a bounds on what I knew were my limits - both financially and emotionally - but I drew a line around considering the novel's content alone. Thus ruling out additional cities such as Lulea and Barcelona, I continued soley on the trail I was already on. I prayed this was not a mistake.

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gkmoberg1
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Re: Dad

Post by gkmoberg1 » Mon Jul 10, 2017 11:51 am

I think I need to add more to the author's reasoning towards the end. What I have is a little too hasty. I'll go do work that through and return.

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gkmoberg1
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Re: Dad

Post by gkmoberg1 » Mon Jul 10, 2017 3:45 pm

Okay, not going to change much. Simply
  • Understand, the book is a lesson book and then an arrow that will take me to them.
All done. Have fun!

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dongregg
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Re: Dad

Post by dongregg » Mon Jul 10, 2017 4:59 pm

gkmoberg1 wrote:Okay, not going to change much. Simply
  • Understand, the book is a lesson book and then an arrow that will take me to them.
All done. Have fun!
You've cooked up a vey nice little (or maybe big) mystery.
“For drama to deepen, we must see the loneliness of the monster and the cunning of the innocent.”

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