Being my father - The nightmare

It was a nightmare, and she knew it. She could no longer live. Life had become unbearable. She cried often. She invoked his name, asked for his forgiveness. But now he was gone and gone forever.

Mistakes are noticed only after. After you’ve made them. Unfortunately.

When she received that email, she didn’t quite understand what it meant. At the time, she didn’t care. Her father could be melodramatic, sometimes.
This had troubled her in many ways.
She spent a month without thinking about that email.
Then, one Sunday morning, while washing coffee cups, a voice struck her mind. He’s dead. He’s dead...
She ran to the computer, opened her inbox, and replied to him. Then she waited.

Two days passed. No reply.

Silvia began to feel the wings of something she couldn’t name - but it was flapping above her. Her heart began to race. She waited, cold sweat on her skin. It was the 15th of August.
Now she was sure: He was dead.
Call him? She didn’t have the courage. But she tried.

A metallic voice answered in a language she didn’t understand. She tried again. Same voice. Same language. Nothing.
She did something she never thought she would do. She felt humiliated. But she did it.
The bite in her stomach, the pain in her heart, she opened Facebook. Searched for a name. His wife’s name.
She found the page. She opened Messenger. And wrote to her.

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Poetry dwells near the divine light's breath

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