Dear Father,
Fourteen years have passed since you died, years of remembering, rethinking, re-inquiring. I wrote about you and me only for a few months after your death. But I never forgot. How can you forget somebody that has left such a print on yourself, that you are becoming like more and more every day against your will?
I used to think that you were not a great father because you were always in a bad mood, very closed to any affection and laugh and Mister No. I hated your cold and unhappy face. Mostly, I hated that enormous distance between us. You were this big, strong man who would point finger at me to show me my weaknesses, and I was this miserable, small creature way too arrogant. You were attached to reality, “ You need to get a good job, make money, marry a good man. With these dreams, you’ll go nowhere. You don’t want to go to University, to become a singer? You will end up been a waitress! You are so immature and irresponsible!” And then,” With a degree in foreign languages, you can only teach English. In this town, there is nothing else for you. You want to travel all over the world? Get real: you can only teach English; you are stupid.”
Yes, I was stupid. I had this enormous passion inside me impossible to restrain. I couldn’t be reasonable. I thought you were afraid of life, and actually, you were so full of fears. I didn’t want to be paralyzed by my parents’ fear. Everything out of the ordinary was for you to avoid, and I was an out of the ordinary child. But, was I really? Sure, I was completely different from my good siblings; they would always follow instructions, I wanted it all and my way. I didn’t want to live life with a discount. Still, I had to do as told, so I went to university instead of going to the Academy of Art, and I got ,“cum laude” ,that degree in Foreign Languages that had no value for me. At the age of twenty-nine, I left my country to go to America to become the singer of my dreams, and I left right before the national context for teachers because if I had stayed, I would have participated to be an English teacher for the rest of my life.
In the States, I worked so hard to study music and build my dream, but I failed miserably. I quit on myself because it became too hard and the dream was always desperately far away. So, I started to survive and guess what I do to make a living…I teach English in the States! Are you laughing at me Dad? You have all the right; I would if I were you; I would if I could stop crying. Amazingly, your ability to organize things allowed me to graduate with highest honors, and it allows me to be a structured teacher today. Your ability not to waste money, which I so hated, allows me to pay my bills while my husband wants to spend it all in instant gratifications. Your honesty and righteousness make me a fair educator and friend, a stupidly loyal wife.
You were a great man; you tried your best with me, but I guess I wasn’t good enough. You had a straight soul not good for the games of life. Today, I know I have a straight soul and, boy, I’m not good for the games of life. We are so similar! I owe you the honesty of my heart and my feelings, this desire for what is right and just. I always try to do what is right, so I kill myself for things that never happen, while the others, taking wrong shortcuts, are enjoying life much more. Today that I have lost my laugh and spirit, I see myself as you, a solitary soul, and I wonder if you were like me when you were young, when I didn’t know you. I wonder if the adventures that you used to invent for us children were a door to a world of dream that you actually had inside, the door to a man who could have guided me better.
At some point, you got sick. The big man was put on a bed and couldn’t get out of it. You were not strong anymore; I was not a child anymore. You left me in three months, with everything unsaid, unsolved, my inadequateness so heavy. I dreamed of you for a year straight, coming to you for consolation when everybody was torturing me. In you, I found consolation and peace. I finally had that peace that our relationship never had, although I know that you don’t have any reason to be proud of me. I apologize; I’m sorry for not being the child you wanted, for who I am.
I honor you Father, and I give you all the respect, gratitude and love that my heart can bear. Thank you for showing me life, brutal, unforgiving, real. I have your heart, but I didn’t know, you had mine and you’ll never know.
SG
Dipinto: Milena Nicosia