How do you do, Lord.
I am writing to you because I can’t put sentences together in a spoken prayer.
It is my father’s birthday but he has been dead for exactly seven months now.
It still feels like I will find him in our small town when I visit, so I often have to say ‘my father is dead’ in order to accept the reality.
My last visit was not perfect – I didn’t express my love for him like you would.
It didn’t feel urgent. I would be seeing him again. I had time.
But the last time I saw him he was in a deep sleep, as if he was already transitioning.
The last time I saw him, he was struggling to breathe so I was frustrated.
I’m not sure he knew I was there and I don’t know what to do with that feeling.
Did his spirit hover around his house in the village since we left the doors open according to tradition?
Did he see me in the corridors of his house, his room, his garden, his bedroom or his office?
Was he at the spot outside the house where we basked for a few minutes that day, or in the living room where I took a photo of him and giggled as he smiled back at me?
Where is my father, Lord?
We were making great progress learning the father-daughter dance but you ended this course on love before we graduated with honours.
So you have to tell him … Tell him I love him and that I know he loves me too.
Tell him he will forever be in my heart and that he shouldn’t worry because I will make him proud.
Tell him I would like to see him again; in a dream, a soft wind, some kind of reincarnation, a medium …
Tell him I am desperate to see him again and that never again will I forget his birthday.