Dear Dad,
Happy Father’s Day. I hope you don’t mind that I haven’t got you a present or a card. If I figure out how to send things to the afterlife, I’ll get right on it. Is there an afterlife? I write these as if you can see them, as if you can read them. Maybe it doesn’t really matter if you can read them or not, it’s the thought that counts.
This is my second Father’s Day without you and it’s still weird. I think I’m more aware of it now that you’re not here. I see all the signs, the adverts, the social media posts, those reminders not to forget dad. It always makes me feel a bit strange, it’s almost like an in your face reminder of what I’ve lost. The fact that I can’t buy you a card or a present, and that I won’t ever be able to forget you.
I’m sure my therapist would say something about the healing process and part of grief. Some people go to gravesides and talk to the people they’ve lost, some people find a quiet place to just talk aloud, I write letters. They seem to help, plus it means I can keep you updated on my life. There’s so much going on at the moment.
So today is Father’s Day, which you know, you should already know given that it’s in the title and I’ve already said it. I always liked Father’s Day when you were alive because it was easy for me to remember. It always occurred on a Sunday around my birthday. This year my birthday was before Father’s Day, and this time I’m 23.
23 feels weird, it’s such a bizarre age. I feel like I’m old enough that I should be functioning adult, like I should have a career, I should be renting my own flat, I should be able to drive. At the same time I feel like I’m so young and I have so much time ahead of me, that it’s okay not to have it all together just yet. Someone told me the other day that your twenties suck, that it’s such a hard age to be. I don’t know if that’s true or not, but it feels hard.
Things are starting to come together a bit more. I’ve got a new job at a history museum. You actually used to take Fabian there all the time when he was little, but I don’t remember ever going. I think you’d be so happy for me and you’d definitely try and come along when I was working just to annoy me (and because you love the place). I’m still not sure exactly what I want to do for a career but working at the museum seems like it will suit me a lot more than the shoe shop did.
I haven’t actually started my new job, I start after I come back form Barcelona. Barcelona has kind of stole my heart, I love the city. Last time I was over there I made a friend who lives in the city, and this time she’s volunteered to show me around some of the less touristy places and take me on a road trip round Barcelona. I think that’s one of the things I’m most excited for. That and the convention that I’m going to.
So I got a bit of money from the pension people because of your death, kind of like a “you’re dad died and man that sucks, but here’s some money to make your life a bit easier.” I hope you don’t mind that I’m using that money to do all my travelling. I don’t think you’d mind. I think you’d probably be encouraging me
I’ll make sure I take lots of photos for you. Those physical reminders of what happened are so important after the memories fade.
Sophie x
A Place of Mine 