November 25th, 2015.
Today, Dady, you would have turned 61.
I remember last year, I remember the previous years.
I remember the cold, I remember the snow.
I remember this one time when I was standing, here, a cigarette in my mouth, a few flowers in my hands.
I remember sitting on this frozen bench, shivering. Always that bench.
I remember that sometimes I didn’t sit. Because of the snow.
Untying, freeing the flowers. Writing. With all my heart, all my pain, all my love.
Wishing you a Happy Birthday.
I remember standing there, in front of this cold plaque. Reading, over again. Realizing.
Weakening. I remember staying there, dazed. I remember running away.
For almost 15 years now. Every single year.
I remember planting those flowers, hoping they’ll keep you warm while I’m gone.
Today, Daddy, I can only remember this plaque, this bench, this cold. Millions of kilometres away.
The scenery has changed. I’m still standing. I’m not smoking anymore, I have a flower in my hair. I’m standing in front of the Ocean.
I’m still weak sometimes. I miss you and this world is mad.
But this world is full of beauty.