I need to speak. I need to say something about this. I really need.
This week you would be turning 75. I would call you, that awkward birthday call. Every year it was awkward, but I always called. Every year I had to do that one-minute phone call just so you would know i didn’t forget. Even though we weren’t that close, you were special to me, you know?
This year we probably would be out celebrating. I would tell you about my plans of doing Law School and, hopefully, you would be proud of the little girl you saw be born. That little pinky smiley baby is all grown up, she’s on college and she’s planning on having the world under her feet. It’s like they say… Sky is the limit, right?
I would REALLY like to have you here this year. Not that in the others I didn’t miss you - I did, a LOT! - but this year I’d have something to talk with you about. I’m not half as prodigious as your grandson, I know, but I would like to show you I am also capable of making you proud. It would be nice to tell you about my plans for the future. It would also be nice to have you dancing with me in the graduation prom. I’ve been missing you since that August 24th.
I’ve lost focus on this and started crying - just like all the other times I’ve written about/to you. I miss you, I really do. It hurts on my chest every single time I think about how happy you would be about something and remember I can’t take the bus and go tell you. Every time I remember that I’m never gonna see you smile to me again. EVERY. SINGLE. TIME.
I don’t tell anyone about how much I miss you, it’s been so long that I’m afraid everybody is going to tell me just to grow up and deal with it the way grown ups do: ignore the pain and keep living. Sometimes I hate this world for being like this. People have the rights to feel pain.
But as I’m talking to you, how’s everything up there? Do angels, like you, look like the ones we picture here? With the wings, halos and everything? And, sometimes, do you come back down here to hold me when I need? ‘Cause sometimes I feel you’re here with me.
Ok, now I’m talking to someone who can’t, obviously, answer me. And I still hope I will get an answer. This is nothing but crazy. I’ve been feeling lonely and it would be really nice to have you around. But as I can’t, I will keep writing to you… At least on my writing I can take everything out of my chest and pretend I told you everything.
So, happy birthday, my angel. My fairy godfather.