Life

What No One Tells You About Death

“Fuck… I can’t call my dad.”

I said it under my breath as I turned my car and faced a long line of taillights glowing angry red.

For the past decade or so, around 5 p.m. on my drive home, I’d call my dad just to check in.

Because my dad was old.

Not just “getting older”… old.

But born-before-WWII old.

And at a certain point in your life, if you’re lucky, you outlive nearly everyone you know.

So calling him wasn’t just a habit.

It was my way of helping him feel a little less lonely.

I glance at my phone, then at the watch on my wrist.

It’s the same one I pulled off his body when he died. I adjust it, then look back at the light, wishing it would turn green as a conversation replays in my mind.

“You know… sometimes it feels lonely.”
“You know, Dad… you can always just call someone.”
“…Yeah, but I don’t want to bother anyone.”

“Well… then you don’t get to complain about being lonely. You have the answer in the palm of your hand.”

It’s funny how the tables have turned.

What no one tells you about death—

When someone dies, you feel the initial shock.
The surprise.
The funeral.

And for a moment, you think that’s it.

But what no one tells you is that, on the other side, there are miles of moments where you want to tell them something—

and you can’t.

So all you do is think instead.

And call someone else.

Please like, comment, share, and tell me what you think. Do you agree? BTW I’m totally fine, and honestly view my relationship with gratitude. I did, however, suspect this would hit a nerve, so I wanted to post it.
Follow me on substack here: Tonysbologna | Anthony Robert | Substack

73 thoughts on “What No One Tells You About Death”

  4. Spot on! My 95 year old dad passed away in January. I used to phone him every day to check everything was OK. I’d visit him at least once a week.
    And for these past twelve weeks or whatever, whenever Rangers win / cock-up; whenever Trump does, erm, Trump things etc etc I momentarily think of phoning my dad.
    (Not been a good year to know me – so far in 2026, my dad, our friend in India who only a few weeks ago we were travelling with; one of my close group of school and early 20’s friends, and two of my athletics team mates’ wives have all passed away.)

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  7. Hey lovely read, so unexpected! You should compile these shorts and publish them on Neobook, hubpages or Wattpad! Protect your work, to the best of your ability, believe me!
    Incredibly creative. I like it, best, ʝ૨

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  8. It did hit a nerve. Thanks for sharing!

    I really enjoyed your story! Hearing about your dad was so touching — wow, a long life indeed! I can understand how you feel about losing a parent. Even though my mom has passed away, I still find comfort in talking to her, even if I don’t know if she can hear me. It helps me to share my feelings and say things I might not have had the chance to say before she moved on.

    We often find ourselves sharing thoughtful memories about our parents—they hold a special place in our hearts! And yes, it’s comforting to have someone to talk to whenever you need to share your thoughts.

    I offer my sincere condolences to you!

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  10. 🙏🏾🩵 My older cousin, Chrissy, died 4 years ago. She was like a mother to me, her children; extra siblings instead of cousins. For the longest time, I dialed her number before it finally hit me that I couldn’t/shouldn’t do it anymore. We spoke every week like clockwork, but texted more than that.

    Ain’t nothing like finally realizing that your routine with someone is no longer routine and you’ve gotta build another one with someone else.

    This truly hit me, Tony. I am sending big hugs your way.

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  11. Oh yeah! I miss my dad, and brother (older) too. There is no replacement. They would both ALWAYS pick up! As I would when they’d call. Everyone else, my call usually goes to voice mail; and it might be days before I get a return. Dad’s been gone 10 years now, and brother two. There’s no replacement.

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  13. Well observed, Tony. There were things I wanted to tell my mother after she’d passed away, and there was that first moment of understanding that I couldn’t, that this was it, there’d never be a chance because it was over, she was gone and I’d never see her again. I don’t exactly spend my days thinking about it, but writing about it now is affecting. It’s so final, and there’s nothing to be done.

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  17. I am traumatized by my father’s death. We texted to call each other the next day; he was supposed to be discharged from the hospital, but he never left.

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  18. I can relate to this. It’s difficult coping with loss. I was lucky enough not to have experienced a major death in the family until my late thirties and it hit like a truck.

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  20. We love our parents. The world is evil and our parents being evil know how to give good gifts to their children. Matthew7:11 We mourn long in remembrance and by second nature think upon them Amen 🙏

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  21. Thanks for being honest about your feelings. I grieved the loss of my father as well as my beloved husband for over a decade. With the exception of my best friend, I was constantly told to move on, to find a new normal. To find someone new, I was 50 when he died. There is none of that. Instead you learn to live with the holes in your soul. You learn to find peace and treat yourself with the love and respect they would have given if they were here.
    But, decades later, I still find myself talking to them every once in a while. Their character hasn’t changed, I know the answers they would give. Live, find some joy, be kind to my daughter / wife. Buy yourself roses, take that trip. Some others compassion.

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  22. My dad died in 2009 at the age of 69. His mother before him, in 1987, also at the age of 69. I have missed them every single day. They were my foundation, my rock, my stability. They loved me exactly the way I am. They loved me for me.

    I am dying now, from a treatable disease turned terminal by medical blacklisting. While I die, I am being cyberstalked, harassessed, bullied by the rest of my family. They even send gag gifts to my home to mock me. No one will miss me when I’m gone.

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      1. You may be right. I would have liked that impact to translate into others wanting to make the most of the time I have left, rather than crying when I’m gone.

  23. I still regularly speak to my husband on the other side and sometimes to my dad. From just a few words to long “conversations” and “discussions”. Usually, a wagtail bird would be visible close by when I’ve been chatting away with my husband, and I take the time to look up when I’m outside. During the first year, which is always the most difficult after loss, every morning when I opened the door to the garden, a wagtail would walk inside and take a seat on my husband’s seat in the living room. He would sit there a few moments up to a minute and then hop off and walk out the same way he came in. When I came back from my father’s life celebration service, there was a red breasted robin inside the house. We live 10 hours’ drive from my parents’ home. A year after my husband’s passing, I went to my parents’ home to pack it all up so my mother could come and stay with me after her stroke. When I went into my father’s study a red breasted robin came in through the door that opened to the porch and sat on his desk. When it saw me, it took a bit of time looking at me and then flew past me and out the door. I can list many little things like that. If we want them to listen, I have a feeling, they do … Strength to you.

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  24. This resonates with me too. My Dad died ten weeks after my older brother passed away from cancer. He was 64 and was caretaker to my parents. My Dad was 91 and cried everyday after my brother died. It was devastating to see my Dad so distraught. I think he died of a broken heart. My Mom lasted four years after that but died last July. She started failing right after they both passed away. The only consolation of not having them here now is that I know that they are no longer grieving. The “new normals” of daily life without them is still sad to me. But… we are lucky that we are sad without them because it means that they were good to us. Best wishes to you!

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  26. Yup, I see something unusual or interesting and the voice in the back of my head says “must render to tell…”.

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  28. You are so right: Death follows us long after. In my post, 5 am, I wrote of my mother’s death only a few months ago, even though she died fifty years ago. At age 74, I still wish I could reach out to her.

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  30. I know this feeling. Seeing something funny and immediately going to send it to a friend who would love it and then remembering he’s gone and that’s when it hits the hardest, months after the funeral. My dad died when I was a kid so not quite the same, but I get this.

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