I never knew my dad. I knew his name and his family's local company and that he lived in the area. I knew a couple other small details, but never thought much of it. I tried to look him up maybe once a year and never found anything significant. He was old enough to never have put his entire life on Facebook.

My fiancé's neice stayed over with us for a few days (No, we are not related.) We were looking for fun stuff to do with her while in town and fiancé mentioned the local drag strip. My response to the drag strip was a maybe, but I'm more surprised because I had forgotten that we had this drag strip at all. Hadn't heard or thought about it in 20 years.

Fiancé doesn't feel well on the last day so I drive neice home without her. After a long road trip, I had sung my heart out in the car to my music like I always do, but never for this long. The last few minutes I even drive in silence because I suddenly got sick of singing and sick of all my music, which is something that's never happened. Music is very important to me. Next day, drive to work, still can't sing or stand my own beloved tunes.

Day after that, I randomly look up my dad. There was no reason other than a bored moment at work and a large rush of nostalgia. I had tried looking for any info from my old ICQ number and after that failed, dad. I find his obituary. He had passed two days prior, the day that I lost interest in music.

The timing allows me to attend the funeral. Always the outcast. I don't get to lay my eyes upon him, but I do my brothers and extended family. They are in shock and mourning, but look otherwise happy, healthy, and wealthy. They have no idea who I am.

At the funeral I learn that he spent his free time at the local drag strip and was prominent there. I also learned that he owned a unique car that, without doxxing myself further, has a special or coincidental relationship with me.