I’ve moved house, I’m living 20 minutes from you. In it I have the only picture I have of you and it’s tucked in a corner with the pictures of your other daughters because I can’t bear the pain of looking at you. But it’s the only photograph I have of you so I can’t throw it away.
I’m getting married next year to a man you’ve never met. We’re disagreeing at the moment because I’m refusing to take his name. I’m keeping your name, it’s the only part of you I have left. I tell him that I wish he could meet you. I can’t believe I’m going to marry someone who will never know you.
I’m joining the RAF as an officer. Hopefully soon I’ll be a Lieutenant. Can you imagine? Someone from our family doing something like that? Seven years ago you would have been so proud of me. Seven years ago I’d be able to tell you all of these things to your face…or even at all.
I miss you so much. I love you so much. If you’d died this would be easier but you didn’t. You just chose her over your children. I know why you did it, I know you never wanted to have to choose. I know you were lonely. But it doesn’t make it any easier. You should have been stronger. Sure, you’ve got a wife, a wife who sat you down and said it’s me or your family. Fuck her.
I adore you still and everything I do is to make you proud…even though you’ll never know I did any of it.
I miss you and even though I’m getting married, starting a family, pursuing a career, none of it means anything when I live 20 minutes from you and you wouldn’t even stop in the street to wave at me if we passed. I just hope she’s worth it.