A Place I feel Connected To
I know its been a while since I wrote to you but I miss you. Sitting here in your garage, your leather jacket wrapped around me, I feel like Im close to you once more. I feel like your little one again.
This place is the only place that welcomes me when the rest of the world leaves me overwhelmed and alone. Maybe its all those hours we spent together fixing bikes or maybe its just the fact that everything here belonged to you. Belonged. Past tense. I never will get used to that but I dont want to be used to it. Every moment here, all alone makes me feel like Im just waiting for you to burst through that door, the ball off energy you always are.
Sometimes, I pretend like youve just gone on a business trip even though you always hated them. We were so alike with our shared hatred of numbers and love of danger, adrenaline. I guess thats why we spent most of our time in the garage rather than doing ordinary father daughter activities but I will always cherish those moments and this place, our spot forever and always.
In a way, just being here helps me cope with everything around me. There is so much change and activity going around that makes me feel left behind, but, being here with the comforting and consistent odour of grease. Strange, I know, but its always there, reminding me of you, holding me down to something. Im afraid that if something didnt I would just float away and never come back.
Fond memories surround me, swirling around in a vortex. Seemingly endless. I thought I had found peace with your death but now the whole process has started once more with me in the middle, each time pulling me alarmingly down under the waves. Sometimes, the memories just makes me nostalgic for the old days, other times, I just want to crawl in here and give up.
I dont blame myself at all. I blamed you and honestly, I still do. This was all your fault. You left me. I only regret not following you. I just stayed wallowing in bed with only my wretchedness and despondency for company.
I was then advised to see a therapist, but he was sadly foolish and fallacious. He kept trying to tell me everything was alright. As if he could understand, I had just lost my only parent. I was an orphan, left to fend for myself. I no longer had anyone who cared for me without feeling a sense of duty towards the poor, lonely, little, orphan girl.
I remember the day like it was yesterday. I wish you hadnt left. Why did you walk out the door. You said not to follow you, that it wouldnt be safe for me. Was that really your intention, or were you just doing what was best for you. I did what you told me too. I stayed at home. I didnt answer the door. I just sat and waited. I waited and waited. Days passed. The food was reducing and reducing. I would sit in the garage all day, waiting for you.
Eventually, people got curious and forced their way in and they found me half-starved, hiding under your jacket. How does it feel like, knowing that you almost murdered your own daughter, your flesh and blood? How could you just erase me out of your life with a few steps out the place we used to call home. I always believed there’s a fine line between love and hate, was what Susan Blommaert said. I agree
Sitting here, writing this in our hideout, the only thing running through my head is, Why?. Why did you leave me all alone? Did I do something wrong? Did I make a mistake? Or was it just your selfishness and inability to love someone else more than yourself? Wherever you are, I hope you made peace with your demons. I cherish those moments we once had, and I just hope to see you again.
A part of me will always be waiting for you in our spot.
Your daughter forever,