I found the hearing aids inside an old cookie tin in Rick’s garage. Dad had wrapped them in one of his white undershirts like he was hiding cash.
And right then I knew Dad hadn’t been confused at all.
When Rick came home, he saw them sitting on the kitchen counter between us and just stopped. Didn’t even ask where I found them.
I asked him one question: “Why would Dad hide the one thing he needed every day?”
Rick kept rubbing the back of his neck saying it “wasn’t like that.” Said Dad accused everybody of stealing near the end. Said he only borrowed money a few times because things got tight after he lost work.
Then he admitted Dad caught him taking cash from the coffee can in the laundry room last winter.
Just like that. Casual.
I honestly think that hurt worse than if he’d screamed at me.
Dad spent his last year hiding things from his own son while still making excuses for him. Still letting him come over for dinner every Sunday like nothing happened.
Rick started crying before I did. Sitting there at Dad’s table saying he thought he’d pay everything back eventually.
I told him the money wasn’t even the part I couldn’t get past.
It was Dad dying thinking he had to guard his hearing aids from his own family.
I left the tin on the table and walked out.
Rick sold the boat a month later. My aunt told me he’s back renting a room over on Miller Road now.
I haven’t spoken to him since.