Dear Diary,

I wish I could tell her how beautiful she looks. I wish I could let her know how I feel when she stands next to me. When sparks fly out of her eyes as she blinks. How will I ever let her know that she was, is, and always will be the most important part of my life? How will I tell her that I will do anything to keep her happy? Will she ever know that I made decisions, placing her benefits over mine?

 

Will she ever be loved by someone as much as I loved her? Will he keep her safe? Will he make her smile forever? Oh, how I wish I could hold her hands once again! What would I not give to have her fingers intertwined in mine as we share cotton candy?

 

But we don’t talk anymore. Not like we used to. Like how we would spend hours talking about the neighbour’s dog or her best friend’s crush. If only I’d known! I’d have changed all that I could. Only if I could have prolonged the relationship.

 

A month. It’s been a month since she left to join him. A month is a long time. Especially when you’ve lost the gem of your life. You see, I still haven’t gotten over the shock of her leaving. It was sudden. And unprecedented.

 

On April the third, she left us all. In a moment. My baby daughter – she left us to be with him. The cops say it was a drunk driver and that the could impeach him if I want. What do they know about wants? It is only now that I’ve found that my needs and my wants have coalesced into seeing her alive and happy. A singularity. Since that day I stopped drinking. It is only when one is hurt can one empathize. And it isn’t easy. When I drive now, I fix my eyes on the road and not on my iPhone podcast.

 

Today I browsed through the pictures we took at her kindergarten graduation. How beautiful she looked! Just like Venessa when she was alive. Her eyes sparkled like freshly watered grass on a bright day. But now she’s gone. Gone to be with Venessa and whoever the divine is. And I hope, for his good, that he keeps her happy. After all, it was he who took her away.

 

I’m slowly stabilizing, amidst the torrent of sympathies. But what does the world know? Sherine lost a classmate. Vienna lost a niece. Paul a sister; too young to even recognize her. The community lost a child, the church a member. But for me it is different, you see. I, I lost a daughter. I lost a part of my soul. Now the only crutch and hope I have are that someday I’ll join her and Venessa. Someday. But until then, I will hold on. Hold on and live as if they are by my side, guiding my every step. Watching over me. I must retire to my bed now, I have a busy day tomorrow. The school is holding a ceremony for her. To me, it is just another reminder that she is no longer with me. I won’t keep you up any longer. Until tomorrow.

Good night

A grieving father