Zwinkyness

I feel so messed up inside, that I don’t even know myself anymore. I look through the mirror and wonder: who is that girl? Who is that chick, with those dark, broken eyes, staring back at me? I can say one thing for sure: that’s not me. But it must be, because after all, it’s my mirror image. Those blank eyes, zombie-like expression. I feel no will to live whatsoever anymore. Yet I do. I live. I breathe. I sleep. But I’m not really alive.

It’s been approximately ten years, but I still miss you every day. I still blame some of my moodswings, some of my extraordinary behaviour, on you passing away. Perhaps this is wrong: perhaps I should not blame you for anything. Deep down, I have the feeling I am simply looking for excuses, but then again: why should I not? Why should your death not be an excuse worthy enough to blame everything that never turned out right, everything I never could acheive, on? Because after all, more than anything else in my young life, your death changed me, made me, raised me. One day was all it took for me to grow up into adulthood. One desastrous day, that made me loose my faith, my love, my trust and everything else that mattered.

Sometimes I have the feeling that I am alone with my thoughts. The only one looking at the world in this peculiar way - but I know that I cannot be alone, that there are others who think alike. I just don’t know them yet, but I will. Some day. Those others, who look inside-out and see the world, not for what we believe it is, but for the grand sceme it presents, the master plan, our downfall, the apocalypse. It’s not the afterlife that is surreal, it is our life now. Our miserable excuse for a life, filled with dissapointments, pain and sorrow.

I have my moments. I have happy days, but other days, I feel so sad that I could rip out my heart, if that would get it to stop aching. Some days I hardly think about you, other days I cannot get you out of my head. Sometimes I still hear your voice, when I’m home alone, your voice shouting my name. It sounds so familiar, so real, and I must believe that you are still out there - somewhere, beyond my grasp, somewhere where I cannot yet come. But I will get there, someday. All I have to do is be patient - this life is just a waste anyway. Simply waiting for Death to knock on my door, then say “hello” and let him in.

Do not get me wrong. I don’t really want to die, nor am I suicidal. I just know that when time comes, I will not regret dying. Not if that means we can be reunited.

Perhaps the image I have of you is completely wrong, over-dramatised over the years, a fantasy-image that could not possibly be true. Because you are too perfect, too understanding, too good to be true, in my memories. But that does not matter now, does it? Because even if you are less perfect, I will still love you deeply and miss you endlessly. Because, even though you have long left this earth, we are still connected. You still tell me right from wrong, good from bad, and you still protect me when I need it the most. Even over the borders of Death, I can still feel your presence. But that should not surprise me. Just as I knew you died, even though I could impossibly know, I am certain that I will see you again one day. The heart knows more than the mind ever will.

I remember how you read me bedtime stories every night. I remember how we played “Robin Hood” for hours, while you always had to be the Evil Prince John and I always got to defeat you. I remember how you picked me up on your shoulders and carried me around all day, because I had hurt my foot when I was six. I remember how you looked after me when I was ill, how you came to check my temperature every other hour. I remember how worried you and Mom were when I went into surgery, and how happy when I got out. I remember how much you supported my cousin when he was at the hospital, and how much he appreciated that. You were like a second father to him. And you were a father to me.

No, not you were a father to me. You are. Even though you have long deceased, you are still my father. Death cannot destroy our love, our bound, our connection. I love you. You love me. Not loved. Love. We do not, should not, talk in past times. Love does not disappear simply because of some stupid thing like death. I love you now evenso as I did ten years ago, if not more. And you still love me. You are still part of me, your blood runs through my veins: you are still responsible for making me the person I am today. You and Mom are my good side, my intelligent side, my heart, my love, my passion. You two make me a better person, every single day.

And as you used to say: “We’re the strong ones. We can get through everything. Because we are together.” That still counts. We can get through everything, because you are still here, here with me. By my side. I have a more powerful guardian angel than anyone else in this world. But I miss you. I know you have not left me, but still I miss you. I miss you so much that it can even make me cry right now. I miss you so much that, if I close my eyes and wish hard enough, I can still imagine you standing there. I still dream about you, I still think about you, I still hear your voice. It’s so hard, because that way it seems as though you are not really gone. It’s mind-tricking, my stupid imagination. But for God’s sake, it gives me so much hope and despair.

Even now, although less frequent, I sometimes still think I see you, in crowdy places. It seems as though my mind has yet to grasp the fact I will not see you again, not in this life. You know how hard this has been for me, but you know it has been even tougher for my Mom. She’s so alone, so fragile, so breakable. I do not worry about me, I do not want you to worry about me either. Worry about Mom. She misses you so much. She hardly ever says it and never will admit it when I ask her, but she still thinks about you every second of the day. She has never loved any other man than you, and I don’t think she ever will. But I want her to. I want her to fall in love again, I want to see a smile on her face, I want her to be happy. I know I cannot give her all the happiness she deserves. I’ll never be able to do it. She deserves so much more than I cannot give her, and God knows how much I tried and how many times I failed her nevertheless.

It’s so hard living without you. You were what we could hold on to, you were our shield against the darkness of this world. But now you are gone, we’ll have to shield ourselves. I don’t think the pain over your loss will ever really go away. It will always be there, a nagging, aching pain, like a sore wound that is but a scratch over a couple of years. I don’t know if I would be a better person had you still be alive, or a worse person. I don’t know if I would happier or even more miserable. But I know one thing: I still have your love and your protection.

And that helps me to get through every day, battling the pain within me. That helps me to survive. You help me to survive.

I love you, Daddy. Always have, and always will.