Where are you, dad?
I remember the last time we met, when I was 8. I remember that day like it was 5 seconds ago.
Since then, they’ve been telling me: “Don’t talk about your father to anybody! ”
But, dad, for God’s sake… I’m tired of keeping slience. Seriously. I can’t do that anymore.
Are you alive?
I would give away everything I have just to find out one thing: whether you’re still breathing.
I promise, dad. One day you will feel proud of your son. I’m not young anymore. I’m no longer 8.
You’re my father, my hero, my teacher, my President, my coach, my mentor. You are the king of my world. My hero.
Maybe you’re already dead.
Is our next meeting in the Heavens?
When we meet up there, I want to tell you everything I’ve done to make you proud.
I promise, my dad. You will be proud of me. You will be proud of me.