A bit sad that instead of being able to say this to my dad in person I am writing this here where he definitely won’t find it. But I need to get it out of my system somehow.
I can’t say this to you personally because there are 7,000 kilometres separating us physically and I don’t want you to hear me cry on the phone. I know I won’t be able to hold back.
It hurts me in ways I can’t describe when I learn about you being unwell. Why don’t you tell me what is wrong? Why don’t you talk to me dad?
I wish I was there to look after you now but work and life gets in the way. I don’t know yet how and what a balance could be. I wish you were here with me helping me along every step of the way just as you did when I was a kid.
I have heard people talk about the cruelty of life. I think this must be what they have been talking about.
Darker than the darkness I could have imagined. Heavier than any other sorrow experienced. Enough to squeeze all life blood out of the heart. Makes breathing difficult. Makes living an agony.
It is not right and it is not fair. Can no one see or hear my despair?
Is this the beginning of the end? My fear.