The road to Ithica(GENESIS)

SARA’S JOURNAL OF LIFE.

#1

There are times that I want to die. It’s when I’m thinking of my father. My dad was a nice man. My mother was a nice woman too. I don’t know what my mom is anymore, but I know that I miss my dad.

It can happen when I least expect it, like today. Robert came and he was playing with his car keys, and I remembered that my dad used to play with his keys too. I felt tears in my eyes immediately. I didn’t cry, that’s for sure. I don’t cry when others are in the same room as me.

I cry alone at night. Like now. I cry when I feel like only death can bring happiness to me because damn it, I miss my dad so much that it hurts. The tears are hot on my face, but my body shudders from a cold that no one can heal. No one can make this cold go away. It’s the cold of loss.

I lost my dad, and he’s never coming back. He will not see me getting married, he will not see me getting a job that I like; he’ll never see me going on a date with a boy. My dad will never yell at me to go out more, he will never complain about my music tastes, and he will never know how much I loved him.

I told him once, a couple of months before his death, that I loved him. He looked at me with tearful eyes and said that he never expected to hear it from me. Then he asked me if I meant it for real. I thought that he knew that I loved him as I thought that he would be there for me when I needed him. I was wrong both times.

I didn’t grieve when he died; things were too complicated for grief back then. I don’t think that it was from the shock, but I can’t tell for sure. I knew that my father was dead long before the paramedics and the doctors told me so. I just knew. And all I can think of now is that I wish I had kissed him one more time, I wish I had said that I loved him one more time, and I wish I could hold him one more time.

I wish I hadn’t held his head when he died. I wish he hadn’t looked at me when he died; I wish I hadn’t seen that fucking sad “smile at me” face when I told him not to leave me like this. Those were my last words to him.

“Are you going to leave me like this?”

I wish that my last words were ‘I love you’ instead of that shit, but it’s too late now. Too late to tell him how much I fucking loved him, even if he drove me crazy with his bullshit. And the funny thing is that I DON’T FUCKING CARE about his bullshit, I just want him back.

I want him back, and then maybe I’ll feel good again. I’m not saying that I don’t enjoy life; I do. I hear music, I see movies, I go out, I buy stuff. But there are some times that the music doesn’t have a melody anymore, that movies are nothing but a big blur, that stuff is just useless and I stay to stare at it.

And God, no matter how many good times I have it only takes one second for my heart to bleed. It pains me so much, so fucking much that I want to scream until my veins and heart explode and I find some fucking peace. I can’t scream; I can’t. All I can do is stare at the fucking space with tearful eyes and wait for the pain to pass.

The tears don’t bring anything more than solitude. Doesn’t matter how many people tell you that they know how you feel; no matter how many people have lost a family member, it’s still your grief, and they don’t know how you fucking feel. It’s me, myself, and I. Only I know how bad I feel. Only I know how many times I woke in the middle of the night, crying from the pain that I felt and feel.

I lost something that I didn’t want to lose. I lost something, and I had no say on that, and that hurts me more than the death itself. I’m not afraid of death, in fact, I know that death is a good thing because my father and I will see each other again, and I find no wrong in that. I’ll see my favorite people again: grandma and grandpa, but more important, when I die, I will stop feeling so lost.

I feel so lost, and even if I know who I am and where I’m going, I’m still lost. I don’t know if I’ll ever stop feeling like this. They say that time heals everything. Here I am, almost three years after my father’s death, and I still feel like it happened right now. I can hear, I can smell, and I can see the moment that my dad died without trying. It’s not a memory and it’s not a fact and it’s not a dream. It’s my life, and I have to live with that.

I can’t whisper in your ear and I can’t hold your hand to feel warm and whole again, but there’s something I want to tell you. See, I wanted to tell you something beautiful, something special, and something that no one else said to you again, and I think that I found it.

I love you.


NEXT: V ( EPPURE SI MUOVE)

SEPTEMBER 2005


To my mother.