All I knew

3 years old:

All I know is that he had a soft smile. He had a very thick Scottish accent (which I found very funny at the age of 3, until I spoke and found I had stolen it from him) but was very smooth, like talking through a mouth full of melted chocolate. He had twinkling puppy eyes and arms bearing gifts. He’d haul me up the stairs, give me piggybacks, and sometimes we’d go to the park.

5 years old:

That all changed when she arrived. There, that women sitting on the bench. Dad started acting weird, like he was allergic to me and he cried every time she spoke about his hospital visits. We went to the hospital for fun. These people in costumes would come and ask dad to lie down. Once he lay down, they wrapped material around his arm and it would squeeze his arm. I found it funny because these green lines under the skin would pop up. I tried it once and it nearly broke the bones in my arm! But he‘d then leave me with the lady and go to the hospital. This made me very angry because why should he have fun and I had to be stuck in this house of despair.

Her smile doesn’t light up the room like dad does. Her voice isn’t as soothing as dad’s. She’s nothing like dad. In fact she looks like a snotty, orange-haired, chicken-nosed looking piglet. Her freckles smudge over her pale, dying skin.

She was a french, sharp, brisk toned lady that took me away from dad. I knew I had recognised her before but she disappeared at sight. Every time I look at her, I feel this bubbling at the pit of my stomach. Dad was the definition of me, he was my life, he let me live my life to the fullest. It was literal heaven. Then one day dad left me, people said he had left Earth, dad wasn’t an astronaut OR WAS HE? He had kept many secrets away from me. We’d visit this stone named after him -which I personally decorated for him- I made it really bright so that he’d be able to see it from the moon. Hopefully he did, I spent a bloody hard time on decorating it.

Everybody said sorry to me, but why? Then I found out that he was under the mud! What a ridiculous suggestion! The moon was under the mud, which was where dad was. Now I got it, Mr Lampard must have helped him get under there with his shovel. What a nice lad! The next day I went up to thank him, but all he could do was shrug because one time the shovel smacked his mouth which muted him forever. Incredible, right! Maybe dad was muted under the mud on the moon as well and he couldn’t get out. Now that was a ridiculous suggestion.

8 years old:

I heard dad last night, whilst looking at the stars. He said, “Keep on fighting Bonnie, I believe in you.” After listening to him, I thought to myself, maybe dad was stuck on the moon and since Mr Lampard’s shovel rutted away, the puzzle fitted together. I was smart!

14 years old:

I was shattered to find out my long lost dad didn’t die on the moon, instead he died in hospital. He had cancer. But I never knew. Why did nobody tell me? It was like I had just been remembered by the world. I go to his grave everyday, weep there and then I’d repeat it everyday after school.

26 years old:

All I know is that dad died in happiness, relief and with much more hope. All I know is that I lived life knowing dad was in peace and that he had not tensions. All I know is that life may take me anywhere, faraway or to death, but all I know is that dad will always be with me, my soul, my heart, my mind, and in my thoughts.

Fools Look To Tomorrow; Wise Men Use Tonight.

This was all I knew...