Seven Letters After You

Letter #7

     After today ends, everything I do will no longer be on impulse.

     I laid out all your clothes on our bed; spending the entire day lying around in your clothes, inhaling the remaining scent of you.

     I blasted our songs and danced around the bedroom, pretending you were dancing with me. Every time I shut my eyes; you twirled me and caught me in your arms.
When I opened my eyes, you were gone.

     I cried a bit in the morning, but I stopped myself afterwards.
     Replaying a video I had recorded of you laughing temporarily numbed my pain.

     Here's to the last day of contemplation; Day 7.

     Remember my 18th birthday? My father had spoken to me the day before and had asked to meet you. I felt like it was the first time meeting him too. We met him at a diner, and sat opposite from him at a small dinner table made for four. Though he was quiet, he attempted to make conversation. He asked about you, your family, and about your future plans.

     You answered everything so confidently, as if you had everything figured out.

     Your eyes were so alive when you gushed to him about what you wanted to pursue. Your passion for helping others made you glow. I couldn't take my eyes off of you.

     My father seemed pleased. The corners of his lips tugged up slightly, and rested there through dinner.

     "Your mother would approve," he said at the end of our meal.

     You were beyond happy. Grinning ear to ear, you thanked him over and over again, and talked about how thankful you are that he had accepted you.

     Outside of the diner, my father hugged me the way he used to. His arms wrapped around me so tight, it felt like when my mother was still around. His scent brought back a stream of memories from childhood.

     "I love you," he said. "We love you."

     That was the best birthday gift I had received from him since mom had left.

     "Your mother and I are very proud of the person you have become today. I'm sorry I haven't been there for you, but you have a future. Happy birthday."

     He pulled away from the hug to shake your hand. He hugged me once more before making his way to his car. Before he left, he turned around and looked straight at you.

     "Take care of her."

     His words will forever stay in my memory.

     Because those were his last words.

     When the clock struck midnight, he placed a gun in his mouth and pulled the trigger. He even did it in a motel bathtub so it would be easy for people to clean up. No note was left. Instead he had written 'sorry' using my mother's old lipstick on the bathroom mirror.

     From then on, I had contemplated whether he had purposefully waited till I turned 18 to do it.
     He couldn't bear to live without my mother, the way I cannot bear to live without you.
     When my mother had passed, he had left too. The remains of him counted down till the day he could leave without having his daughter being named an orphan.

     I was with you when I got the call from the police.

     I didn't shed a single tear.

     He was happy; where he wanted to be. Embracing my mother in his dream of a life after death.

     My father was cremated in a cardboard box. There wasn't a proper funeral, because I couldn't contact any existing 'family' members. It was just the two of us watching the box slowly disappear into the flames.