5 Years

It’s been five years. Five years since I first experienced that pain that will never go away. Fading slightly, but never truly easing. Honestly, I’m not sure how I got here. Sitting in my garden, still struggling to find the right words. For several weeks now, I have been doing my best to push down my emotions as the heartache of knowing that it has been five years since you last held my hand in yours is just too much. But today, today is the day I will try to let some of those memories flood back.

I have been dreading this five-year mark now for a while. Something about it just feels more significant. Almost as though this gravity of five years makes it all that bit more real. And, in turn, makes you feel even further away. I’m scared of that. No. I am terrified. Terrified of the time passing so quickly until five years becomes ten becomes fifty. Time is moving too fast, and I miss you. I want it to stop. I want to go back and hold you again, smell you again, feel that comfort of your arms around me, holding me close. A comfort that only a father can offer a daughter. I miss it all.

Somehow those nineteen years of memories together have melded themselves into a mosaic of special moments. Although we were joint at the hip throughout my childhood, I can’t help but feel that I don’t remember enough. Or perhaps it’s the fear of remembering in case of the emotions spilling, so I keep them pushed down. Our evening strolls, weekend hikes, painting together, Friday night dinners, and all those years of travelling to Barcelona, just me and you. We did a lot.

Now it’s me doing all these things without you by my side. Maybe I will follow in your footsteps and throw a pin to a map to see where to travel, or perhaps I will follow you back to your roots in Cataluña. I know it is where you wanted to be eventually, and our time got cut short, we had so many more trips to plan and partake in, so now I must do them on behalf of us both.

I hope you’d have been proud of me. After all those arguments we had when I was adamant that I never wanted to go to college, here I am with a degree now. I think I have turned into a pretty okay person too. I’m definitely still learning, but I am trying my best. I try to incorporate you into the little everyday things in my life. Sometimes you still get me a coffee; other bad days, I get myself some flowers on your behalf because I know it’s exactly what you would do if you were here.

I just wish I could make more memories with you. Accepting that I can’t is tough. And accepting that it has been five years since I saw you is the toughest of all. I have never known pain quite like losing you.

I miss you, Dad.

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