The time reads 3:11 AM. I’m listening to saxophone covers of current random songs, I’ve been trying to go to sleep for the past 4 hours but instead I’m reading things I should not be. The kind of things that leads to mild chest pains.
For the first time ever, I can confidently say I miss my Dad. What I mean is I miss what we could have been if we both kept trying. I’ve had some weird conversations in the past two weeks that have been making me reflect on our relationship. Yes, I am aware it wasn’t the healthiest relationship out there but at least there is something I can work on if I tried harder… If we tried.
I think, i’m terrified we’ll fall back into the same patterns and that might lead me falling down another rabbit hole. There is nothing magical about where I end up though. I would not want us to fight about silly little things like how I didn’t greet him properly or how my response to a question isn’t satisfactory. I’ve never liked how things are one sided with him, things have to be his way or it just isn’t happening.
Our relationship has always felt like walking on a tightrope.
I am afraid of falling…
Or maybe i’m afraid of heights…
Even when it seems I’ve got both feet on the ground I feel the wind caress my neck and i’m scared of falling. Our ground seems to be layered with eggs and we are running out of any to save. There is almost nothing left to count and it breaks my heart.
I remember when I was at Nanogang, my friends would want to meet over the weekend to go to the cinema or simply meet and chill. Even in my St Joe days. I’d come home, ask my Mum who would immediately refer me to my Dad. Usually as soon as she would say “Go ask your Dad.” I would have already started thinking about what I was going to tell my friends. Obviously Dad was going to say no. I honestly used to think he wanted to intentionally make my life miserable. He doesn’t believe in friends. He says they are bad, they ruin your life by leading one astray. I am still figuring that out.
On the rare days that I could master up enough courage to go and have my heart broken by a single word. My body would start shivering and my eyes bursting at the seams. Crying was my go to outlet for every emotion. Still is.
I recall once being asked if I feared him or respected him.
Out of loyalty to family the correct answer should be respect right? I guess I did to some extent but fear kept me in line with him, sadly it also kept us apart. I can’t tell you what his favourite colour is, what shoe size he wears or what were his favourite cartoons as a kid.However, I can tell you how he likes his coffee, the type of shows he likes to watch and how good he is at Math. On some days that is enough. I can piece together enough moments to convince myself that I may have been a Daddy’s Little Girl. That I can still be that but the wind still blows.
I am scared we might not speak the same love language. Mine loves words and softness, His is all action and sometimes a bit harsh. I’ve had dreams where we have met and I could not look him in the eyes. Ashamed at the fact that I couldn’t have been more for us. I simply gave up and walked out. The last time he told me he was sick I didn’t bat an eyelash instead I screamed internally that my depression was no different than his. He would have to reach out for me before I came looking for him. Isn’t that what Dad’s are for? To save you? Well. Whatever then answer is to that it doesn’t matter now.
I’m going to try.
When you want something, the whole universe conspires to make it happen.
“And, when you want something, all the universe conspires in helping you to achieve it.” – Paulo Coelho
And it is going to work because the universe heard me.