#4 'Goodbye, and Good luck.

To Dimtris.

The first and last memories of my father are a lie, a tangled web, like my hair after a shower.

The dreaded Sunday hair routine. I can still hear my groans as my mother crouched over me in the bathtub lathering my hair in frantic motions, desperate to get out every last salt crystal accumulated from my ocean adventures. Then, she launched her secret weapon; the hair brush, seeking mass destruction in its wake.

The thing about knots is, they grow, over time, just like lies, and when they’re discovered, it’s a painful experience, for both parties.

Lying, it was my father’s favourite thing. Who really knows? Perhaps he got a thrill out of hiding the truth, elaborating an otherwise plain story. He would always bring his face very close to you, close enough so you could see the beautiful ring of grey in his blue eyes, and suddenly without warning he would envelope you in a huge embrace. An embrace so warm, so safe that I wasn’t able to resist lying my sleepy 4 year old head on his smooth broad chest, causing him to lift me up, scooping my bare legs around his waist.

“My tinaki, my little ocean girl, titina, you know I love you don’t you?”

“Yes daddy”, I’d say. “To the moon and back”. At this he’d smile and trace circles on my back, placing a feather like kiss on my forehead. Did I though? Did I really love him? More importantly, did he love me? He said it all the time, but it’s one thing to say, and another to feel. Actions speak louder than words. He hurt me. When I would sit waiting for him on the steps of my house in Athens, dressed in my best clothes scanning car after car, he hurt me. Later I would cry because he didn’t call and my mother would wipe my eyes gently saying that no man was worth my tears. He broke my heart already she would say, I won’t let him break yours. He hurt her, my mother. He broke her heart, the strongest heart filled with so much love. What else was he capable of doing?

It’s been 7 years daddy. Goodbye, good luck. I love you, now watch me as I let you go. 

Author's Note

This is something I wanted to write to my "father", who I haven't seen since 2007 due to his lying and abusive behaviour.