When Dad left the sky cried. Fat drops fell from the clouds and it was almost as if the sky could feel my heart breaking in two, being torn to shreds. This image of a perfect family I had died the day my dad slammed the door, leaving wounds so gaping I thought they’d never heal. It’s strange, isn’t it? How much power the choices of others can impact your life. How you can still long for someone even when you haven’t spoken to them for years. How despite the distance you never really stop loving them. I guess that’s how love works, you either love someone with all of your heart forever or you never truly loved them to begin with. You wonder how someone you loved so much could just leave you.
You wonder why you love for them couldn’t just dissipate too like their’s obviously did. Then you realize your love for them doesn’t leave just because they do. So you tell yourself that it doesn’t matter, that you’ll just be a better person than they were. You try and forget when they were there. Yet, you have this terrifying thought that even under all the anger, resentment, and pain your heart still yearns for them. You close your eyes and you can’t decide what’s scarier. Their absence, after being such a big part of your universe or that a part of you will always miss them. My dad left me. There was no why. Or rhyme or reason. There was no goodbye. One day he was just gone.
Then it was just me, mom, and a camera full of memories.