Ivan came over a few more times during the following weeks.
One weekend, I thought he might have to cancel. His mom called him in the middle of the night because his dad wasn’t doing well, and they ended up taking him to the hospital.
Thankfully, everything stabilized and Ivan still came to see me the next day.
He was exhausted.
We spent the evening curled up on the couch watching New Girl. There wasn’t much conversation. He was tired, distracted, and carrying a lot more than he let on.
After a few episodes, he headed home.
Looking back, I think we both knew there were bigger things happening than dating.
I should warn you now: this isn’t a happy story.
One morning that week, I noticed I hadn’t heard from Ivan.
Normally, he would have texted me before work or at least sometime during the morning. Hours passed and I assumed he was busy.
Around noon, my phone lit up.
“Hey, I’m sorry I haven’t texted. My father passed away last night.”
I felt my stomach drop.
For a moment, I just stared at the screen.
“Ivan, I am so sorry,” was all I could think to say.
The rest of that day, and many days after, were spent checking in whenever he responded. I asked what he needed. I asked how he was doing. Mostly, I just listened.
There wasn’t much else to do.
Over the next week, I struggled to find the right words.
I offered to send food. They already had plenty.
I offered to help. There wasn’t really anything to help with.
There was no wake. No funeral. No memorial service.
His father was cremated, and that was it.
Life just kept moving.
At least on the outside.
A week after his dad passed, I offered to bring him dinner.
He wasn’t in a good place, and I could tell he was trying his best just to get through each day.
“Would you hate me if I said I just want to stay home alone tonight?” he asked. “I don’t want anyone to see me like this.”
“Ivan, of course that’s okay,” I replied. “You let me know when you’re ready.”
And I meant it.
Grief isn’t something that follows a schedule.
The following week was much of the same.
We texted every day.
He checked on his mom constantly. He spent time with his brothers. Sometimes he talked about his dad. Sometimes he didn’t.
I worried about him a lot.
Two weeks after his father’s passing, we made plans to see each other on a Saturday.
He had a first birthday party to attend earlier in the day and said he would come to my apartment afterward.
Around 4:45 PM, I still hadn’t heard from him, so I sent a quick text asking when he thought he’d be over.
“I haven’t left yet, but I’ll let you know.”
A couple of hours passed.
Nothing.
Eventually, I sent another message.
“Okay, I’m just going to figure something else out for dinner.”
No response.
To this day, I never received another text from Ivan.
At first, I was annoyed.
I spent most of that Saturday night fighting the urge to send another message.
Sunday was Mother’s Day. I spent the day with my family, trying not to think about it too much.
That evening, my mom and sister both asked the same question.
“Still nothing?”
“Nope.”
And that was that.
We still follow each other on Instagram.
Almost two months later, we have never spoken again.
Oddly enough, I wasn’t devastated.
Confused? Absolutely.
Surprised? Definitely.
But not devastated.
The truth is, grief changes people.
Sometimes it makes them pull closer to the people around them.
Sometimes it makes them disappear.
I don’t know exactly what happened.
Maybe he wasn’t ready for a relationship anymore.
Maybe he needed space.
Maybe dating simply became unimportant compared to everything else happening in his life.
I’ll never know.
What I do know is that I’m grateful I never had to hurt him.
By the time things ended, he was carrying more pain than anyone should have to carry.
Whatever happened after that was his journey, not mine.
And for the first time since I started dating, I stayed off the apps afterward.
But don’t worry. The story doesn’t end here.
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