7

Ess. Ee. Vee. Ee. En.

7.

Seven.

Seven years and I’m still broken. Forever broken. And forever unaccepting. I got ripped off. We all did. Your children, your children’s children, your brothers, your sisters, your friends. The whole fucking world. And, sure, I might be a bit on the biased side, but I’m not wrong. You’d say I was, but you’d know inside that I am right.

I can still close my eyes and relive my first memory of you. Though it is now more like a stop motion film or something you’d see posted on Vine. Let’s not even go there. So not something you’d be interested in. Because, the Internet.. oh has it changed since you were last forwarding me spam in hopes that I would tell you that a Nigerian Prince really did want to share his family’s fortune with you. I can still see your shirt, you crossing a room, a dark room. It’s the first memory I have. Not the first time I saw you, but I remember asking momma about the details once and she told me I couldn’t have had the memory because I was a baby. But we also realised that there were no photos of this moment/day/whatever, so I guess you just left an impression on me.

I can still close my eyes and see the last time I saw you smile. You were outside of the bus we were leaving Scott’s wedding on. You were teasing Randy because you got to be outside with a cigarette and he was stuck on the non smoking bus. You were happy. You were relieved. Your last child was married and it went off without any troubles. All of the stress and all of the worry was gone. You were truly happy. It was wonderful.

I wish I didn’t have to close my eyes, or look at a photograph. I wish that this was the most elaborate hoax EVER. Sometimes I am convinced that it is. Because how could it not be? I am not a forgiver, but I would totally forgive you for this. Let’s be honest, I’d pretty much forgive you for anything.

There was moment when I was in Las Vegas a couple of weeks ago. I was walking through the Bellagio when I looked out of the window and there you were. I stopped, rubbed my eyes and looked again. You were still there. I took a couple more steps and looked out of the next window and it was still you. I rubbed my eyes again and shook my head. You didn’t go away. I watched you walk thinking that would make me realise it was not you. But you walked just like you. My friend asked what I was looking at and I said “There is a man that looks just like my Dad”. She said “You mean the one in the grey shorts? Yeah, I noticed that too. He looks just like him!”

I knew it my heart it could not be you. I held your hand tight. Too tight. Felt too much to know that was not you. But my chest still seized and my heart stopped and time stood completely still, and for a moment there I thought that maybe I had been wrong. I hoped that I had been so wrong.

 

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It’s been seven years and time hasn’t healed shit.

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