Dearest K.
A bittersweet letter to my father figure. I wish you could have raised me instead of him. We miss you, I hope you arrived well.
Dearest K.
You were everybodies favorite. I can’t tell you if all those names on your purple banner still think about you, but Momma and I do.
I was too young to understand it, too young to know what happened, why I woke up and Mom needed help because you were gone over night.
The blue jacket, you gave ten euros, it’s still hidden in her closet. Your favorite baseball cap, black and white checkered; I found it the other day. With time passing by, it seems to be mine, but can I wear off your scent? Even though it has faded long ago. Can I clean it and remove the evidence of your life? Even though most of the yellow spots are by dirty lies?
It’s been 15 years ever since you’re gone. My heart aches for your words, for your scent and arms. Your silhouette is beneath my skin, black shades I designed myself.
I know, you would have loved it.
Before I saw my parents marriage videos, I thought your voice had already left my mind, but no other mans voice will ever sound as familiar. They took your body, for something you never caused, made it look as if it was your own drunken choice. But they could never take the brightness of your soul.
After you died, Mom showed me the brightest star of the night. It was a cold night near the beginning of the year; she said you’re the light, always taking care of us.
I’m 21 years old by now, I know that it’s not you, but on your green ashes, I will always choose to believe in your love.
The closer I get towards my own marriage, the sadder I end up, no matter how far away it is. You were supposed to walk with me, but now that you’re locked inside heaven, I will have to make sure that you will have your own special chair. Of couse in the first line, you must get the best view.
We miss you with every passing day, K.
I hope every sudden breath of wind is you checking in.
With love, your Joe.
Ps, Thank you for making sure Mom sticks with me. Take care of Granny and little HotDog.
This was beautiful. My father, my adopted dad, passed away almost 10 years ago and my heart still aches for him when I think about how much I miss him. How much I need him. How much he was here to share in all my present and future joys. Yesterday was his birthday. I took a small cupcake and candle to the local bookstore I work at. He loved books so much and would often take me to the one bookstore my city had back then. That store has long closed, and I know my dad would have loved the one I work at. Getting to commemorate his birthday there felt like a tiny little blessing. Reading this felt like a reminder that I'm not alone. That there are many a great men out there raising children they didn't bring into thia world, leaving starlit marks on their heart and broken hearts in their wake.