Ah, Dad. One year ago today you shuffled off this mortal coil. But in so many ways, you are immortal.
I’ve written you a letter as I promised I would but I can’t bear to look at it today. Later on we are having a party in your honour at the pub and I don’t want to fall apart. I need to hold it together for now. I can fall apart tomorrow instead. (You understand).
I travelled 600 miles in less than 24 hours just to have a quick drink and a chat with you, to check that you’re alright. If I could do that every day, I would. I feel like my heart has fallen out and I don’t know where it went. I can’t find it anywhere. Retracing steps is futile, counter-productive even. I have to keep moving forward and hope that it’ll show up. But, as soon as I find it, I will visit you again.
In the meantime, feel free to continue visiting me in my dreams and freaking me out with weird coincidences and signs of your omnipresence. I think what you’re doing is the opposite of haunting. Or it is haunting, but it’s the best kind of haunting.
I miss you every minute of every day. The world is a lot darker without you in it but when the sun does shine I know it’s because you asked her to, so I try to enjoy it.
I love you, Fatherington! <3 forever and a day x