Concerts, Fathers and Daughters

A letter to my dad. A word I have always wanted to use.

I look around and I have no memories stored of you.
There are no complaints, promises missed, no “I told you so,” nothing.

I have never been able to call you for advice. I could not look into your eyes and see a reflection to build on.
We had no smiles to exchange over a silent moment only we would understand.

How does one build on nothing?

“I love you Dad” words I long to have said.

Often saying words may make them lose validity with repetition, but the only way that can happen is if there is no action behind the words. The hard work of being a parent is because it happens without the thought of reward or gratitude. It is perseverance of faith, love and endless dreams of “what if”.

We have:
No missed dates
No hand to hold crossing the street
No wait
No hurry up
No favorite song to know
No kiss on the cheek
No hugs

Lift me into the air
Swing me around
Make me laugh

All I feel is loss and tears
running down like little streams on my cheeks.
Tiny drops of hurt, small sighs never to be heard by you
I try to let go of feelings that are
real, but I do not want to forget you happened.
I am your memory.
Let me, a living one, reflect well.

A letter to my dad. The only word I could never say.

Dedicated to Fathers understanding the importance of music.


All art and verbiage are @ olives and you 2009-2010 unless otherwise stated.