I had no big quarrel with my father

 I had no big quarrel with my father.

He was a stranger to me. 

Untouchable and far enough away from me emotionally that he could stay more as a figure, than an actual father.

So I had no big quarrel with him.

In a way, I imagined him to be able to understand me. 

That we were secretly a kindred spirit.

I wanted to write this as a letter for him.

But it's weird to write to him directly, addressing him as "Ayah" or whatever.

It's so fucking cheesy.

And we didn't even have that kind of relationship when he was alive.

So why would I force it to happen in death?

Truth is I dreamt of him last night.

I dreamt that he was alive.

And that I had confronted him about needing him to be there for me.

To simply acknowledge my existence.

Maybe convey some pride in me for being who I am today.

And in my dreams, he did.

I walked to the dinner table and he turned his head to look at me.

And smiled a smile of acceptance, apology and assurance that I never actually saw on his actual face when he was alive.

I was in a nightmare, but I had one spot of sweetness in the dream.

And that's what I remember.

And I don't believe in spirits or souls or whatever.

But maybe this is part of healing too.

My mind trying to tell me that, it's alright…

You can give this to yourself.

An imaginary father who actually cares and sees you for who you are and is proud of you.

And in a way, in all of the wanderings of his mind maybe he did.

It's funny how you can miss someone who was never really there for you in life.

I think I miss the feeling that it was possible to mend the rift.

My own projections of what our father-daughter relationship could have been.

And now that will never be possible anymore.

Except maybe in my dream.