ME: It’s the night of June 20th. The first Father’s Day gone. I stare at the dark ceiling, moonlight hitting the brass of my bed. I stare and the dark ceiling that should be there, the dual shades of nothing and what was white, but my father blocks my vision. He sits, above the bed, above my head, staring back at me like he always does. Every night for the past nine months he’s sat, staring through closed eyes. Tubes pulling out his veins while moving nothing. Nothing moves. He’s as still as the thirtieth of September. Still but not silent.
DAD: How’s the new one?
ME: How do you think he is?
DAD: He doesn’t deserve you.
ME: They never deserve me.
DAD: At least I taught you well.
ME: You didn’t teach me anything.
DAD: I did. You just haven’t realized it yet.
ME: Am I a disappointment?
DAD: Everything but.
ME: Why’d you go?
DAD: It wasn’t my choice.
ME: Why’d you go?
DAD: It was my time.
ME: Why’d you go?
DAD: I had to leave. I’d done my job. You were fine. You’re still fine.
ME: No I’m not.
DAD: What about the new one?
ME: I’m not fine.
DAD: I thought he healed you?
ME: He hurt me.
DAD: but you love him?
ME: Yes. In spite of what he did.
DAD: What did he do?
ME: He took me… he took what I gave. He took too much.
DAD: You can’t change the past.
ME: I know!
DAD: I know.
ME: I know he loves me. But I’m afraid it was too easy. What if he leaves?
DAD: Then he leaves.
ME: I don’t think I could take another loss.
DAD: You can take anything you get. You’re strong, like me.
Me: I’m not anything like you.
Dad: You’re more like me than you even know.
Me: I’m scared.
Dad: of what?
Me: Of you. Of him. Of loosing myself.
Dad: You’ll never lose that. You may forget for a little while, but something will always bring you back.
Me: Please don’t go.
Dad: I have to leave.
Me: Please don’t go!
Dad: I’ll stay until you fall asleep.
Me: Please…
ME: It’s Sunday, August first. Night. I haven’t seen my father since that night. He left me in the hands of another. He left me to my own devices. He left me to stumble on my own and forget who I was. I lay in bed, alone. Alone for good. Alone for now.
ME: Daddy?
(silence)
Me: Daddy!?
(still silence)
Me: Daddy please, I need you.
Dad: What is it?
Me: He left.
Dad: I know.
Me: I knew he was going to.
Dad: I knew too.
Me: Why didn’t you tell me.
Dad: you had to experience it for yourself.
Me: I’ve never felt a pain like this.
Dad: that’s a lie.
Me: I’ve never felt a hole so big.
Dad: that’s only partially true.
Me: I’ve never loved someone the way I loved him.
Dad: I know.
Me: what do I do now?
Dad: you keep moving.
Me: how can I keep moving. I don’t know who I am.
Dad: the find out again.
Me: How?
Dad: go live and the answers will come.
Me: I don’t know if I can.
Dad: you must.
Me: I can barely breathe
Dad: then take it one breath at a time. I promise it gets easier. Other’s will heal you. You’ll heal yourself. You have no idea how much you’re loved.
Me: Daddy, I’m scared.
Dad: just close your eyes
Me: Please don’t go.
Dad: I have to leave.
Me: Please don’t go!
Dad: I’ll stay until you fall asleep.
Me: Please…
