Category: Category 1

Just some random thoughts on my notebook.

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Dear Daddy

When I miss you I will write instead, so I hope you are listening. I never understood what Aunty Sonny meant when she said my heart will become heavy with the loss of you. Until now.

I am sitting in my white chair, next to the boat in the sun. And I feel like running somewhere, anywhere where to find some peace.

I won’t forget our last conversation, and how I lied to you. Everyone else seems to think I know what I am doing. Perhaps because things work out for me in strange ways. I know you think I am like Mummy, who has way too much faith and trust, whereas you and my sister are planners. Your favorite question to me being, ‘Why would anyone do that for you?’ when I spoke of friends who would reduce mountains to ash if I asked. You always doubted so much, whereas Mummy and I would just smile. As though we knew something you didn’t.

And when you died all I could do was reach for my notebook and write and make sure the one person I love most was not falling apart. All I still do is write and write and reach for the sun.

The hardest lesson you taught me was this. Place your heart in safe hands. As I sit in the sun I realised that the only safe hands I have ever known are my own, and I can’t stop weeping because of the freedom and loss it brings.

Tonight I am gonna record the song I wrote for you one year ago. I wrote it silently as I sat at the piano. I could barely bring myself to sing the words or speak them to anyone.

I miss you old man. I hope you know I tried my best to be a good daughter to you and Mummy. When I was home it mattered keeping you two happy, cooking and just sharing my days. I always knew I won’t have enough time.

Know this Daddy. I will try to keep everyone safe, for as long as I can, as long as I am around.

Your Auriol.

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In the darkest of temples his silence unfurled, amidst swallowed words and half written songs. In my grief and aloneness the Cobra sun  flickered one sibilant truth.

This was always yours to sing alone.

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My notebooks are littered with names and numbers scratched out. People to forget, words that will become music and scribbled with dirty hands amongst it all – my only talisman.

One single name to keep me safe, the warmest place the sun shines, a way back to myself.

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