The Farewell

There was a time when I sought out sadness, nostalgia, melancholy... that space between depression and despondency, when there's still strength to rise after hitting your own bottom.

It helped me write, to connect with my sensitive side, to expose every unpolished, immature part of myself, letting it be caressed by the subtle, bitter essence of truth.

But long ago, I set aside my most fragile self, avoiding the constant tearing of every misplaced feeling in a world that could, apparently, be only happiness.

And since you've been gone, I've continued fighting against my own nature, perhaps hoping that this pain, this silent loss, might feel less real.

Yet each morning, each afternoon, each night, my soul grows heavier; I don't know how to look at flowers without sighing, how to let the air touch my face without making me cry, nor how to enjoy nature without my chest pounding from within, yearning to scream.

Because it deeply hurts to know that everything touching my inner self also touches you, and it pains me more than your departure that your feelings have faded. But you never stop reminding me that you're here inside, adding a constant hue to my emotions, showing me things as no one else ever will, being my constant companion when beauty never ceases to appear, so that the love for life, so characteristic of you, never ends.

I remember when I walked through the hospital door, after three years without speaking, after so many unresolved resentments, and there you were, serious, with the one you told me was the love of your life by your side. I approached your bed, and you looked into my eyes, and at that exact moment, I knew you'd captured me in your gaze, as if it were the last time we'd see each other. You cried, and immediately tears welled up in me; I kissed you, held your hand, and told you I loved you... It was truly sincere, and you knew it even before I spoke the words. We needed nothing more. The room had become our star, where I would travel with you wherever the little time you had left would take us.

That night, I saw the part of you most rooted in this world, and I still treated you as my father, regardless of your wanderings in search of your place within that mind scattered by surgery, by the deterioration of age... And when I left, I realized I'd forgotten my phone there. I noticed upon arriving home, and when I returned, you were alone, asleep, with no one by your side to watch over you... Then I understood that you were no longer just my father; you were a person whom life was letting go, like a river that doesn't stop and continues its course without anyone to carry or guide it to the end... And I didn't want that river to be devoid of your good things, so I set out to fill it with all I could give of myself.

I went twice a day, helped you get up, forcing the situation, trying to avoid catastrophe, and you'd look at me and say, "I'm proud of you," but it wasn't enough; I wanted to pull you out of there... Sometimes you had visitors, and your mind would reorient to the world that was yours. But when they left, it was just you and me... holding hands. There were days you'd get angry and take out your frustration on me, and still, I fought for your existence as if it were my own because I was already anchored in you. And when you tried to leave the first time, I fought with all my strength for them to treat you with tests, medications, more attention... and to keep you here, even when everyone told me it was your last night... No, we needed more time, and I didn't want to allow fate not to give us a little more, just a little more...

That night, you wouldn't wake up, and I turned you on your side so you could breathe well; I spent hours watching your breathing, your heart, your body telling me, "I don't want to be here," and I told you many things... You didn't speak, but you gestured. I talked about my feelings and how much I needed you, what you meant to me, and I know you heard me... After a few hours, you woke up; I approached you, and we looked into each other's eyes; you smiled at me like never before in my life and said, "I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you," and I kissed you many times... You had returned, and we talked about moving in together. I was already looking at a little house with a garden to plant your favorite flowers and take care of you until you were well, but we would never be apart again. And you spent days and days improving and worsening; people didn't understand you, treated you like a madman saying nonsensical things, and I tried to treat you as you needed and demanded in your way; I asked you for synonyms of words that weren't understood, you'd tell me, and then I could give you what you asked for; I told you my things as if you were the same person, always treating you as my father, and you'd say, "One day I'll thank you for all this with a big gift, you'll see," and I'd say it wasn't necessary, that would upset you, but I always tried to make sure you didn't feel alone and, under no circumstances, misunderstood. You told me, "You're the only woman in my life," something you always said when I was a girl and introduced me to people you knew, and for some strange reason, you'd forget everyone, their names, who they were... But you never forgot me... Never, you always knew it was me, and if you didn't remember the name, I'd say, "But who am I?" And you'd respond, "Of course I know who you are, my daughter." No names or labels were needed; you knew me because you felt me, my love for you, my soul was always very close to yours, and you knew it, you recognized it... My soulmate...

I tried to pull you even more, took you for a wheelchair ride through the hospital gardens while you ate an ice cream, and the next morning, you told me how special it had been for you. That day was late; the next morning, we'd do the same... But the next morning, you fell asleep again; I waited for hours, and you didn't return... I'd been waiting for days for you to go home with me... But then I understood there was no more time for us in this world, that I had to let you go...

I couldn't be more selfish; you'd given me all of yourself in those circumstances, and I couldn't say goodbye... But there are different ways to say farewell, and while they put you completely to sleep so you could leave peacefully, I told you we were going home, that the wait was over, "we're going home now, Dad," "I love you"... you replied, "finally," and I said, "yes, this is finally over," you fell into a deep sleep holding my hand...

And the next morning, we left because he was no longer in the world, and I live in a new little house where I've planted flowers I know he'd like, and every time I look at them, he looks with me...

He wasn't the best father; he had many flaws, many unjustifiable acts... but I don't care anymore.

He lived his life, and although I needed him a lot, I now live mine, and all the love I needed for so many years, he embedded in my heart with all the strength he had at that moment consciously... And he has filled me with love and laments, but I prefer to cry every night when I go to bed because I need to see him and give him a hug, knowing I won't see him again... Than not having lived with the true memory that I had a father, who despite all the bad, had many good, fragile, deep, unique things that very few know. And although he didn't know how to make all the good in him prevail, I know he had it.

I'm not hurt by the death of his person... I'm hurt by the death of those intense feelings he always hid so well, that would have moved the world in a very different way if he himself hadn't been afraid of them...

It hurts not to feel him in front of me again... but now it hurts to carry him inside me, and however it may be, it hurts that he's not here... Because he was much more than he ever came to understand.

And despite everything, we will always be soulmates, an extra burden, something you loved and made you feel that despite all the bad you did, you left things in this world that, according to you, were truly worthwhile, like your children...

I will never forget you, Dad; it's not an order, I carry you inside me, and you'll never stop reminding me.

I love you, and I will always love you...

Sara Kroft. C.D