A LOVE LETTER.

… to my father.

August 10th.
Today would have been your birthday, and I still cannot believe that you are gone.
It is the 3rd birthday quietly spend without you.
You would be jollier on your birthdays. You would come home with a smile on your face, even if you had spend the last hours hooked up to a machine designed to extend your life. You would be happier. You would take us out for dinner. You would raise your glass to us, laugh more, banter around, and nothing could dampen your mood.
You had made it through another year. You had shown that fatal illness that the Leo inside you had not lost its roar.

The day you left, my world fell apart, and I still haven’t been able to find all the bricks to build it back up.
I tried to be strong - for you, for mum, and for myself. I did everything I could to make her feel better, and taken care of, and I reminded her as often as I could that she is not alone. That I am still here for her.
I offered to help her move closer to me, but she refused. She wanted to stay close to you, she said. Close to home.

When the world had quieted down and life went back to normal, I could feel the deep gaping hole that your passing had left in my chest.
I know our relationship wasn’t always the easiest one, and I now realize how incredibly difficult I had made it for you at times. You cannot imagine how many times I silently wish I could go back in time and ‘do better’… but since that is impossible, I wanted you to know that everything I am today - I am because of you.

My interest in history.
My love for nature.
My passion for literature.
The joy that radiates from my heart when the first snowflakes fall from the sky.

I am you.
Others often called me ‘daddies girl’ and, looking back, I was - and I still am.
I felt safe with you, and protected. I knew you would catch me when I fall. I knew you would always be here for me - until you weren’t.

Seeing you suffer like this for over a decade was the most torturous experience of my life. To see you slowly fading away every time I came to see you left my heart in pieces.
But have been a hero! You adjusted. You compromised. You gave up your hobbies and the small joys of life that were meaningful to you. You gave up your beloved forest walks because your body was not strong enough to carry you this far anymore.

I remember that one afternoon when you came to sit by me on the sofa. You carried a wooden mahogany box in your hands that held old photos from when I was a child, and when you were younger… stronger, and healthier.
You told me all about the vacations we went on, and you looked at me and said:
”We’ll go there again. We’ll go there together… once I am feeling better.”
I remember your words that afternoon so vividly. You knew you would not get better. You knew you would not improve. But I am glad you came to sit with me. I am grateful for this moment with you, and I wanted to let you know that I understand why you spoke these words. You wanted to give me hope, to make life a little easier for me, when you had already seen and accepted the outcome.

And I still remember the last time I hugged you goodbye. There was a heaviness in the air - a sense of looming dread - and I had a feeling that this may be the last time I ever get to see you, speak to you, and smile at you.
And I hugged you tight, as tight as I could.

The time I had with you wasn’t enough. Nothing would have ever been enough.
There are things I wish I would have been able to tell you, and there are times when I wish I could speak to you again - just one last time.
Your laughter still echoes through the corridors of my memory, and our adventures together are tucked away safely in the treasure chest inside my heart.

I dedicated this column to you because you shaped me into the person I am today.
Not one day goes by where I do not think of you.
I thank you for everything you have done for me. Thank you for all the memories you left me with - that one summer when you taught me how to fly a kite. Together, we ran across the open field that was exploding with flowers, the sun was shining down on us and the wind was just picking up to rise out kites high up in the air. I can still remember the joy and the laughter, and I remember how happy I felt when my kite was actually flying - and how proud you had looked at me for doing it all by myself.

I remember those winter days, when the night had brought more snow, and you took me out to go skiing and sledding together. It was our thing - the love for winter, for snow, and the magic of a wintery forest.
In the evenings, you would take me on a walk through the neighbourhood to look at Christmas lights, and afterwards, you would light a fire just for me, because I was cold, even when everyone else around was complaining and sweating.

Thank you, Papa.
I love you.
I miss you.
I got mum flowers she can put next to your picture.

Ela