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Where did you go Daddy?

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Author's note: I bottled up my feelings for years until they just came flooding out, and this is my way of...  Show full author's note »
Author's note: I bottled up my feelings for years until they just came flooding out, and this is my way of coping. This is for you daddy, I will always be your little butterfly.  « Hide author's note
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Birthdays and New Years

Tomorrow is New Years. No. Tomorrow is my dad's birthday. The day everyone starts over is the day I realize I missed yet another year of my dad's life. We don't celebrate it anymore. How could we? If we made cake, who would eat it and actually feel good about themselves. I suppose this day will be another quiet one. Awkward walks past each other. Maybe one will try and start a conversation, who will finish it? Everyone will have their own area where they go to just be alone, walk precisely five feet away from their area, don't look at them. I wander if mine will be the bathroom. I don't have an area. My mom will have her usual spot in the living room. Ashley will take over our room. Jamie and Jacie will be gone. I will be everywhere. Each place has its own memory, we haven't had any memories of him at this house, but it reminds me of past ones. Our pool reminds me of our old one we used to have, except this one is now underground, our old pool, it would jiggle if anyone moved too quickly, and don't jump into the pool like a sumo wrestler with your shoes on because it is bound to break and spill over. No more pool, but the thought makes me laugh. Our dry dirt, that lacks of plants, reminds me of his obsession with plants. It makes me wander how our house would look if he was alive. Filled with many different colors, flowers, plants, trees, failed plantings, and lemon trees I suppose. I miss lemons. His salty lemon water. I don't have anyone to drink that with, now everyone thinks i'm crazy for putting lemon and a bout a pound of salt into some ice water. Thanks dad. You taught me well.
"Heart attack in a bottle," you would say.
Well, its a heart attack i'm willing to take. I think the good open doors will be my spot this year. Hey daddy, did you know Freckles died last year? I found him. Old age I suppose. I cried, and thought of you. I remember when you dedicated three days of your life to build a cage for Freckles, you were so proud of your cage. We had to get a new cage. I felt like I was throwing a piece of you away and getting a smaller, improved, new you. I miss Freckles. I remember when Ashley, you and I, were all in mom's room with Freckles and you were on the bed and we were watching Lost, and you didn't want Freckles near you because you didn't want his biting you. Ashley and I found it hilarious when he did bite you when you put your leg down, but you didn't, but I know you were laughing so hard on the inside. When Freckles died, I felt like I have no connection left with you at all. Nothing is left of you, except the picture of your signature move on my cork board above my head. I wake up and look at you, and miss you. I go to sleep, close my eyes and miss you.
My mom kept your wallet, your small leather wallet that always seemed to pop out with 'stuff' you 'needed.' Its pretty empty now.It has two dollars in it. I always feel like one day ill look inside it and the two dollars will be gone like you spent it on something, like lemons. They remain there everyday. Never to be moved. Never to buy something with. I feel your hands. Your hands taking our your wallet and using it like you would do in any minute of your normal day, or in my alternate universe, where I ask for money for candy and you give it to me. The leather is worn down.
When I go in my mom's room I catch myself wiping the dust off your canteen of ashes. Its not the same. My daddy in a box, is like a butterfly with no wings. It feels wrong, like your not in there, just trapped. Your soul is free. Open on a stand waiting for when one of us needs you and then you come.
I wear your necklace every day daddy. When I wear it someone always stops me and asks me what happened. Sometimes I tell then your story, sometimes I don't. Do they really want to know? Those people I do tell, they say their sorry, and some run off quick, stressing not knowing exactly what to say. Some stay and tell me their usual sorry, and how they know how I feel. They don't. They may know how they feel, but they don't know how I feel, and no body does except me. That's why I love my best friend Bailey, she doesn't tell me she is sorry because she knows I don't like it, she tells me she doesn't know how I feel but that she will always be here for me when I feel like explaining it. She loves you, and she hasn't even met you!
Tts almost time to go to Bailey's house, man I wish you could meet her, you would love her! I'll go to her house and she'll take my mind off you, fill my heart with laughs and funny pictures, but I still go to sleep thinking of you. Everything catches up. In my mind, it never stops.
Tomorrow is the start of a 'New Year,' but it's your birthday, your birthday that no one celebrates, and i'm gonna buy a bucket of ice cream, add a splash of milk, and it won't be the same, it won't taste the same, I won't want it, but it will feel right. Tomorrow is your birthday and the day after is my 'New Years.' Mine. Not the whole worlds to share, mine. My new years will forever be January second. Why is your birthday on New Years? No. Why is New Years on your birthday. The day of your life. Your birth, your creation. I hate birthdays. Your birthday will be silent. Everyone will have their own spot, and when you come down to visit. I'll be outside.
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