Izzy was quiet while her mother mourned. She wanted to ask more—press for more information about the loss of her father, but she could tell that it wasn’t something that her mom wanted to talk about. More importantly, it wasn’t something she was ready to talk about.
Izzy supposed that she should have been morning as well. After all, she had just learned that her father was dead. But it was really hard to mourn for a man she’d never actually laid eyes on. Learning of her father’s death did not make her sad, but rather curious. Where had her father been all this time? Why had her mother never spoken about him, but knew enough to listen for news of his death? Why—after not speaking to the man for twenty two years (Izzy assumed) is her mother suddenly heartbroken for this man’s death?
But Izzy, would have to wait. Her mom had to recover before Izzy could even hope to learn more. And Izzy did want to learn more—a lot more. But then again, it had been twenty two years and the man was already dead—what would a couple more weeks or months really be in the grand scheme of things?