Chapter 59
I nod, but don’t look back at him as I climb.
When I’m alone in my room, I sit on my bed and page through the album. It’s shocking to me, how much is familiar and how much is a mystery.
I’m just a toddler in the pictures, so I guess it makes sense that I don’t remember any of it, but even at a glance I can tell how precious I was to my father on this day. He had me standing at the altar with him as he said his vows to my mother, a hand on my little shoulder as I looked out to the crowd.
Then, there’s another photo of their first dance with me crying, my arms wrapped around his leg, unwilling to let go. Both of my parents are laughing in that one, pleased, I can see, by my attachment to them- to him.
Then another, with my father feeding me a piece of wedding cake, laughing as I get icing all over my face. My heart sinks as I bear witness to the love on his face on that day, his happiness at being able to share it with the woman he loved as well as his child.
I suppose it really was a love match, then – my father and my mother. They had me first and, even though he could have just pushed her aside for someone else, he had married her, recognized me officially as his daughter.
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My lips begin to tremble as I look through picture after picture of my parents‘ joy, their love for me, and I feel incredible shame that I
don’t remember any of it –
What must it have been like, just a few weeks ago, for my father to
walk into that room to see me again – his little girl – and see that I had no idea who he was? That I had completely forgotten him?
I fall back against my pillows then, tears slipping down my cheeks. I know it’s not my fault – I was just a little kid – but I feel absolutely rotten. I must have broken his heart into a million pieces.
My door creeks open again and I see Daniel’s dark head peak in. “Fay?” he asks, hesitating. “Are you home already? Can I come in?”
“Sure,” I say, wiping at my eyes.
“Are you all right?” he asks, pressing the door closed and coming to sit next to me on the bed. I nod, sniffing and working hard to contain myself.
“Yeah, just…looking through old pictures,” I say, gesturing towards the album. Daniel picks it up and leafs through it.
“Oh wow,” he says, looking between me and the woman on the page. “Fay, she looks just like you.”
“I know,” I respond, my eyes wide. “Obviously I remember what
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she looks like, from when I was a kid, but…I didn’t realize I’d grown
to resemble her so much.”
He nods, still leafing through. Then he looks at me. “I can see how this would be hard for you. I never, ever go through my mom’s old albums.”
Inod, reaching out a hand for his, understanding. Life can be so terribly difficult sometimes, especially when you’ve lost a parent. It’s a fine line, between wanting to remember them and missing them so horribly that all you want to do is run from the feeling.
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