19 June 2011
It's kind of weird talking to a display right now and just writing the words instead of saying them out loud. But it has been like this for years. The morning after I slept on the cold hard bench, things were never the same again. I can still remember the yellow light, the smoke, the cards and the flowers. Everything seems so vivid but also seems like a dream. I have gotten used to this life without you. I have gotten used to people saying I am like you. When I play the guitar, I feel that it's the same music that echoed through the halls when you played. When I paint, I feel that the colors blend the same way on your drawing board. When I write, I feel the thoughts flow the way they did in your head. When I look into the viewfinder, I feel that I see things the same way you did. Most of the time, I feel that I am so different and that only you could understand. I wished you've stayed long enough to let me hear you play the piano or the guitar. I've also wished you've stayed long enough to teach me more than just painting a forest. But still, thanks for everything Dad. I know it was only a short time but I think it was worth it. I'm all grown up but still learning. Life isn't a piece of cake but I've learned how to eat it like a cheesecake. I know you are the gentle breeze touching my face. Miss you Dad.