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.
The fear was powerful. Trying to deal with everyday teenage life is hard enough without confusion over your sexuality thrown into the mix and then the fear that I would lose everyone around me. I was sick to my stomach in some of the earlier days over it. And to make matters worse, I didn’t even feel that I had anyone that I could speak with. The mental isolation had well and truly set in.
I have been quite reminiscent lately, as we all have really. One year ago everything has been so different. For me, it has been one year since I last really seen my granddad. One year since I sat by his bedside and held his hand while he sang to me. Jim Reeves was his favourite most recently. Every weekend I would make my plans around seeing him. I would look forward to our time together, always saddened when time was cut short due to work.
Monday just passed, I got up at 3am to head to the airport to get a flight to Brussels. It was absolutely freezing when we arrived in Belgium, but we made our way to the hotel to unpack. From there, we headed out to explore the city and get our bearings with the place.