To the Wounded

I can't stop thinking about you. Though I can barely imagine what you look like. Though the only thing that's left from you is that picture on the wall of my bedroom. Nothing more than that.

I thought that living on my own wouldn't be difficult like this. I thought that all I really had to do was to live my life and not care about anybody around me. Because, you know, I am alone and I don't need anyone else to be with me. But I do. And it hurts that I don't have somebody that would walk with me in the morning when I wake up, somebody that would come to my bed every single night just to make sure that I'm already asleep. And if I wasn't, that somebody would stay with me until I start to dream. And then, he'll dissappear. But he'll come back early in the morning just because he didn't want me to know that he ran away to his bedroom. That someone will be missed forever, if he doesn't appear.

Soon I'll grow up. Soon there will be no more chances for you to know where I am and what I do. I'll be sent somewhere. Far away from everyone.

When you were with me, I didn't really understand all these miserable things life can bring with itself. I thought everything would be just as it always was. I was a little child then, but not any more. Now I understand what is possible and what is impossible to happen to me and you. Now I understand everything. Yes, I do, but it hurts. It hurts more than not knowing where you are and where I'll go and whether we're going to meet some day. I wish they didn't tell me the truth. I wish life was a bigger lie.

I know that you had to leave me back then. I know that it wasn't just a choice. It was a question of life and death: you leave me, you live - you stay with me, you die. That's why I don't blame for doing it. You wanted me to have a good family. If you died, I would have neither good nor bad one. Now I don't know whether I have one.

You used to tell me the story of the day when I was born. That was the only story you had where my mother is also a charachter. All the others were kept as a secret. I mean, who would tell a little kid the real story about making kids or marrying?!

You said that I was in your hands as soon as I met this world. You didn't tell me why. You left that part of story untold, wishing my new family would finish it correctly. And they did. They really did. But I didn't want to hear about it any more. Only once I heard the story and I kept it for myself. I wanted to not think about it, but I did. I would cry each time I remembered it.

When I was five, you were sent a message. It said that you had to go to fight. I thought: No, he wouldn't. He always told me that it was not good to fight! But you did. You did, you left. You found me a family whose part I would be from then on.

They were very good to me. My new family, I mean. They always tried to make their house a better place for me. But I don't love them as much as I loved you.

Could you maybe find another woman? Another that would complete our family? I know that I wouldn't love you as much as I would love my real mom, but I'll love her just because I loved you and you loved her.

When are you going to come back? I'm worried about your safety out there. They didn't send a message that you died, so I suppose that you're still alive. Or maybe they just didn't let me see that message. They were worried about me. They couldn't have stood seeing me crying. They had enough of that when I was younger.

I wonder if you're going to see what I've become. I'm a man now, daddy. 18 years old. I have grown up. And you and mom didn't see that. My mom maybe saw that from the sky where she lives now. But you didn't. You couldn't. And you're not to blame for that. I wonder if you have a calender or know what day it is and what year. Maybe you grew old and I won't recognize you when you come back. Maybe you came back and I didn't recognize you, and you didn't come to pick me up to live with you because you didn't want to. You were worried how I'll leave with a dad full of wounds. Maybe you just wanted me to have a complete family. My mom, my dad, brothers and sisters - all of them.

I hope you're not in a war any more.

Sorry, dad, I don't know how to send you this. I want you to see it but I don't know how to make you read all those words.

Still, I know that you read it right now. Because I was a part of you. And you know everything that I think about or do. You know when I'm ill and when I'm crying. And you support me from out there.

Thank you, dad!

Impressum

Tag der Veröffentlichung: 26.07.2019

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This book is dedicated to all those who live their lives without his/her own family. They are the only ones who know how difficult it is to cope with that kind of life.