Seven Years

I couldn’t believe it. I mean, back then, I thought two years will probably take too long. But look at me, it’s been seven years now. Seven years. Seven freakin’ years. Seven growing-up years. Seven years. I mean, how can time pass so quickly like that but never really changing so much?

Yes. I still use the same words that I say every freakin’ year. I still remember. I remember this day, or, not the exact day but that time, seven years ago. As vivid and clear as if it just happened yesterday. Or just a while ago.

How could I forget? I mean, I wrote it in my blog for me to remember. Those last words, last smile, last goodbye, last joke, last good thing that you’ve done for me, last look. Yeah, that last look, and the last place where I saw you, smiling like I’ve never seen before, or was I just too indifferent to notice?

How could I forget? I would remember it and remember it as long as I can. I know my memories will soon fade. But how can I forget? Those were the proof that you lived. You lived long enough to teach me things I never really notice until you’re gone. You lived and for that I will be forever grateful.

I am so grateful to have you as my father, even if it was only for eighteen years. But who’s to say that that time is short? It was long. It was long enough for me to be grateful for it, and to long for it, to regret it so much when I lost it.

But, I guess, I never really lost it. You were still here. A part of me. I know that a part of my future got lost with you but what had happened had already happened. Even crying here won’t fix it. So I let it go. I let go of all the regrets I have. That wishing part that if you were here, things would be so much different. I would’ve gladly shared with you every bit of story I had, every place I’ve gone to and every people I meet. I’m sure you would like it. But, alas, I could not.

So what is my point? My point is probably pointless. I just want to remember that even if you did not live long enough until this point, the time that you spent with us is probably more than enough. If I’m given a little bit of time more than that, I would still wish for more and the wishing part won’t stop.

But I’m glad. I’m happy for all those times. I will try to keep it all but new memories develop everyday. I am afraid that new memories will try to mix with those all memories. But I’ll live. I guess. And I’m thankful. You were the only father I wish to have. Everytime. And I miss you everyday. That part won’t stop.

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