I'm sitting in The Broken Piano. Again, I find solace in my writings.
Once I dared to feel
The joy of true love's embrace.
I gave my heart freely
Without restraint.
Now I find that I am left
Again, that embrace was torn away.
I cannot cry.
I must be strong.
If not for myself.
Then for her.
Friday, October 8
Sunday, October 3
Old as she is, she still misses her daddy sometimes....
I spoke about my father today. First time in ages I have done so. I was sitting with Sakura Imoru in The Broken Piano and he came up in conversation while we were speaking of our children. I remember my father so clearly. He wasn't a tall man, but he was strong. I remember waiting patiently for him to come home from work at the treasury. I would run to him as soon as he came in the door and he would lift me high in the air and say, "Was my little Las good today?" I would nod and assure him I was, even if I hadn't been. He would show me star charts and tell me about the systems.
One night, when I was ten, he didn't come home. I waited and waited. My mother grew worried. She contacted the authorities who said they could do nothing at this time. My sisters and I were sent to bed. Late that night, I heard my mother sobbing. I crept to my room door. My uncle was there, which was strange. I heard him say, "There was nothing that could be done." I burst out of my room and everyone stopped and looked at me. My uncle knelt down in front of me, "He's gone." I remember shaking my head and telling him it was a lie. My mother grabbed my shoulders and shook me, "Your father is dead!" I remember my whole body going numb and the world going dark.
I spent the next few days in a haze. No one would tell me what happened. Finally, when I'd asked my mother for what seemed like the hundredth time what had happened, she slapped me. I withdrew into myself.
I do not think I would have left had my father not died. To this day, I do not know what happened. Perhaps someday I'll have the courage to investigate further. Until then, I'll keep the memories I have of him, smiling and laughing.
One night, when I was ten, he didn't come home. I waited and waited. My mother grew worried. She contacted the authorities who said they could do nothing at this time. My sisters and I were sent to bed. Late that night, I heard my mother sobbing. I crept to my room door. My uncle was there, which was strange. I heard him say, "There was nothing that could be done." I burst out of my room and everyone stopped and looked at me. My uncle knelt down in front of me, "He's gone." I remember shaking my head and telling him it was a lie. My mother grabbed my shoulders and shook me, "Your father is dead!" I remember my whole body going numb and the world going dark.
I spent the next few days in a haze. No one would tell me what happened. Finally, when I'd asked my mother for what seemed like the hundredth time what had happened, she slapped me. I withdrew into myself.
I do not think I would have left had my father not died. To this day, I do not know what happened. Perhaps someday I'll have the courage to investigate further. Until then, I'll keep the memories I have of him, smiling and laughing.
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